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PSYCHOLOGY 


AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  PHILOSOPHY. 


BEING  A.  BRIEF  TREATISE 


INTELLECT,  FEELING  AND  WILL 


By  Rev.   E.  Janes,  A.  M. 


IT: 


SIT  7 


'o&i&fe 


OAKLAND,  CAL., 

W      B.     HARDY. 

1885. 


COPYRIGHT,  1884, 

By  E.JANES,  Oakland,  Cal. 


3* 


fXf 


PACIFIC  PRESS, 

Printers,  Electrotypers,  and  Binders. 

lath  and  Castro  Sts.,  \   i  529  Commercial  St., 

Oakland.  f  (      San  Francisco 


PREFACE. 


My  purpose  in  preparing  this  book  has  been  to  furnish  something  which 
might  be  adapted  to  the  use  of  college  classes,  and  at  the  same  time  useful 
to  thoughtful  readers  in  general,  who  may  desire  to  review  the  elements  of 
Psychology  and  Metaphysics,  or  bring  down  their  acquaintance  with  these 
subjects  to  a  more  recent  period.  I  was  led  to  see  the  need  of  such  a 
work  by  actual  experience  in  teaching.  The  existing  text-books  were 
unsatisfactory  to  me  for  various  reasons. 

Some  a^e  too  large  for  use  as  text-books,  others  so  small  as  to  give  no 
adequate  idea  of  the  extent  of  the  subject.  Some  are  too  abstruse  and 
difficult  in  style  and  matter,  others  display  no  familiarity  with  the  recent, 
especially  the  German,  literature  of  the  subject.  Some  are  too  one-sided, 
either  as  giving  only  the  peculiar  views  of  the  writers,  or  as  neglecting 
important  parts  of  the  subject.  Some  are  ill-proportioned,  some  are  ill- 
arranged,  some  are  unsound  in  doctrine. 

In  the  preparation  of  the  present  work,  a  serious  attempt  has  been  made 
to  keep  in  mind  and  avoid  these  defects.  I  have  had  the  advantage  oi 
testing  large  parts  of  it  by  actual  experiment  with  young  students  of  the 
subject,  whose  suggestions,  generally  unconscious,  have  been  valuable  to 
me  at  many  points. 

The  first  part,  "The  Intellect,"  has  been  already  before  the  public 
nearly  a  year,  and  the  very  favorable  opinions  which  have  reached  me, 
from  the  best  sources,  encourage  me  to  hope  that  I  have  not  wholly  failed 
in  my  purpose,  and  that  the  completed  work  may  also  receive  the  approba- 
tion of  those  best  qualified  to  judge.  Attention  is  requested  to  the  follow- 
ing features  of  the  book: — 

I.  It  is  small,  as  all  text-books  should  be;  but  this  brevity  is  attained, 
not  by  leaving  out  important  parts  of  the  subject,  or  by  omitting  adequate 
reference  to  its  literature,  but  by  condensation  of  style  and  carefully  studied 
arrangement  and  proportion  of  treatment.  Yet  clearness  has  been  aimed 
at,  equally  with  condensation;  obscurity,  prolixity,  and  abstrusity  are  alike 

(iii) 


iv  Preface. 

out  of  place  in  an  elementary  treatise.  Moreover,  in  treating  those  parts 
of  the  subject  which  require  illustration  by  examples,  but  a  few  of  these 
have  been  given  in  each  case,  selected  from  the  best.  A  vast  mass  of  such 
material  has  been  accumulated  in  the  easily  accessible  and  popular  works 
of  Carpenter,  Maudsley,  Ribot,  Sully,  Taine,  etc.,  not  to  speak  of  more 
special  treatises.  A  text-book  should  not  be  burdened  with  many  of  these. 
The  teacher  can  read  to  the  class  his  own  selection  of  them,  and  will  find 
new  material  constantly  in  current  literature. 

Thus  the  book  is  small  enough  to  be  read  through  by  a  college  class  in 
one  term,  and  yet,  I  believe,  large  enough  to  contain  a  fair  introduction  to 
the  study  of  philosophy,  and  give  the  attentive  student  some  idea  of  the 
literature  of  the  subject. 

2.  The  arrangement  is  progressive,  beginning  with  the  Senses,  ad- 
vancing to  Perception  and  Consciousness,  and  thus  gradually  approaching 
the  metaphysical  questions  involved  in  Psychology.  The  Nature  of  the 
Soul  and  the  Mind  of  the  Lower  Animals  are  postponed  until  the  phenom- 
ena of  Intellect  have  been  studied.  How  much  metaphysics  ought  to  be 
introduced  into  an  elementary  treatise,  is  one  of  the  most  puzzling  ques- 
tions that  an  author  has  to  deal  with.  In  my  view,  it  is  chiefly  as  an  in- 
troduction to  Philosophy  that  Human  Psychology  is  an  important  study. 
It  is  the  best  stepping-stone  to  Philosophy  because  it  is  not  merely  the 
science  of  nerve  currents  and  of  the  association  of  ideas,  but  the  science 
of  Mind  and  its  necessary  relations.  My  plan,  therefore,  has  been  to  join 
the  two  in  a  progressive  arrangement,  with  a  little  Logic  added. 

3.  Quotations  are  freely  made  from  the  highest  authorities  of  differ- 
ent schools,  but  none  are  treated  as  infallible.  The  "Dictate"  from  the 
lectures  of  Lotze,  published  after  his  death  and  containing  his  maturest 
opinions,  have  been  found  very  valuable.  Drbal's  "  empirische  Psychol- 
ogic'' has  been  of  great  service,  though  not  often  quoted.  The  works  of 
Hamilton,  Porter,  Spencer,  and  Bain  have,  of  course,  been  constantly  in 
my  hand. 

4.  The  Historical  Sketch,  though  very  brief,  is  intended   to  show   the 


Contents.  v 

great  fact,  that  Philosophy  is  continuous  and  progressive,  and  familiarize 
the  student  with  a  few  of  the  greatest  names  in  its  literature.  A  full 
account  of  the  opinions  of  great  Philosophers  would  be  often  too  abstruse 
and  always  too  prolix  for  such  a  work,  but  much  is  gained  if  interest  in 
them  can  be  excited,  and  the  way  pointed  out  for  further  study  of  them. 

5-  Far  more  space  than  is  usual  has  been  given,  in  proportion,  to 
Feeling  and  its  derivatives,  and  the  Will  has  been  discussed  somewhat  in 
detail.  In  both  these  departments  it  is  hoped  that  greater  clearness  and 
better  arrangement  have  been  attained  than  in  previous  text-books. 

Due  credit  has  been  given  for  whatever  has  been  borrowed,  I  believe, 
except  in  the  case  of  the  Idea  of  the  Comic,  which  was  suggested  to  me 
by  a  friend  whose  name  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  mention.  The  Theory  of 
Beauty  is,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  entirely  original;  but  I  well  know  that 
unconscious  plagiarism  is  easy  and  common. 

If  this  book  shall  be  of  service  in  making  the  study  of  Philosophy  easier 
and  more  attractive,  I  shall  feel  amply  repaid  for  all  my  labor. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

Philosophy,  its  Nature,  Necessity,  and  Value  5 

Philosophy,  Definitions  and  Divisions  of 9 

Psychology  Defined  and  the  Term  Defended 11 


INTELLECT. 

PRESENTATIVE  POWER. 

Classification  of  the  Mental  Powers 13 

Sensation,  Definitions  of 15 

Sensation  in  the  Lower  Animals  and  in  Man 17 

Sensations  Classified 20 

Perception  Defined 22 


vi  Contents. 

THE    SENSES. 

Sense  of  Smell 25 

Sense  of  Taste 27 

Sense  of  Hearing 30 

Sense  of  Sight,  the  Eye  Described 33 

Perceptions  of  Sight  and  Color 37 

Perceptions  of  Form  and  Direction 39 

Perceptions  of  Distance  and  Solidity 43 

Binocular  Vision,  the  Pseudoscope 47 

Sense  of  Touch 49. 

Muscular  Sensation '. 52 

TOPICS    CONNECTED    WITH    SENSATION. 

Localization  of  Sensations 55 

Illusions  and  Hallucinations jj 

Feeling  in  Sensation 59 

Attention 64 

Qualities  of  Matter  in  Perception 67 

Sir  W.  Hamilton  on  the  Qualities  of  Matter 71 

Substance  and  Attribute y^ 

Consciousness,  in  Man  and  the  Lower  Animals 74 

Authority  of  Consciousness,  etc 80 

Uses  of  the  Term  Consciousness 83 

NECESSARY    ELEMENTS   IN    PERCEPTION. 

Space,  Two  Great  Theories  of 85 

Spencer,  Kant,  Herbart,  Lotze,  Hamilton,  etc 88 

Time,  Different  Views  Concerning 92 

Schopenhauer's  Parallelisms ...  96 

Causation,  Necessity  of  the  Idea  Defended . .      97 

Theories  of  Hume,  Brown,  and  Mill 101 

Monadology  and  Pre-existent  Harmony  of  Leibnitz 107 

Teleology  and  Teleophobia ....  no 

Identity  and  Similarity,  Lotze,  Spencer,  etc 112 

Remarks  on  "  Intuitive  Ideas,"  etc 117 

Spencer's  "  Psychogenetical  Hypothesis" 119 

Enumeration  of  "  Necessary  Elements" 121 

' '  Regulative  Faculty" 122 

Criteria  of  First  Principles 123 

Perception,  Completed  Doctrine  of 125 

Perception,  Theories  of 1 26 

HISTORICAL  SKETCH. 

Plato,  Aristotle,  and  the  Schoolmen , 129 

Descartes,  Leibnitz,  Herbart,  Lotze,  etc 131 

Locke,  Berkeley,  Hume,  Brown,  Mill,  etc 136 

Bain,  Spencer,  Fiske,  etc 142 

Reid,  Hamilton,  Porter ...  144 


Contents.                            .  vii 

REPRESENTATIVE  POWER. 

Memory,  Divisions  of,  True  Nature  of 147 

Diseases  of,  Mystery  of . 1 5 J 

Association  of  Ideas 1 54 

Dreams,  Cause,  and  Nature  of 159 

Somnambulism,  Hypnotism,  etc . .  , 161 

Imagination,  Varieties  and  Nature  of 163 

REASONING  POWER. 

Definitions  of  Reason  and  Reasoning 171 

Judgment,  the  Power  of  Discrimination 172 

The  Concept,  A  Mental  Product 174 

Reasoning,  Deduction,  the  Syllogism 180 

Induction 185 

Uniformity  of  Nature * 187 

CONCLUDING  TOPICS. 

The  Lower  Animals,  Intelligence  of 191 

Their  Mental  Life,  Associative  and  Instinctive 193 

Beast  Minds  and  the  Human  Mind 197 

Nature  of  the  Mind 198 

"  Series  of  Sensations"  Theory 199 

Lotze  on  Materialism 201 

"  Thought- Stuff  "  Theory,  Brain  and  Mind '. *.  203 

Comparison  with  the  Lower  Animals   205 

Metempsychosis,  Location  of  the  Soul,  etc 206 

FEELING. 

PRELIMINARIES. 

Definitions,  Feeling,  Pleasure,  Pain 208 

Nomenclature,  Feeling,  and  the  Feelings   209 

Classification  of  the  Feelings 210 

Feeling  and  Sensation 212 

Feeling  and  Intellect 213 

PLEASURE  AND  PAIN. 

Physiology  of  Pain  and  Pleasure 214 

Philosophical  Formula  of  Pleasure  and  Pain 216 

Feelings  of  the  Different  Senses 219 

Digression  on  Feeling  in  Music 221 

.ESTHETICS. 

Beauty  not  Mere  Pleasure  of  the  Senses 224 

Beauty  Intellectual,  the  True  Theory 225 

Confirmations  of  Our  Theory  of  Beauty 227 

Beauty  not  Wholly  in  Expression 230 


viii  Contents. 

EMOTION. 

Emotion  and  Reflex  Movements .    232 

Expression  of  Emotion,  Spencer  and  Darwin 233 

Curious  Experiments  and  Theories 234 

Fear,  Defined  and  Described. ...    236 

Anger  or  Defensive  Emotion lyj 

Grief  and  Joy,  Expectation,  Wonder,  etc 238 

Laughter,  Herbert  Spencer's  Explanation 2^0 

The  Comic,  as  a  Mental  Feeling 240 

APPETITE. 

Natural  and  Artificial  Appetites 244 

DESIRE. 

The  Term  Desire  Defined  and  Limited 246 

L>esire  of  Property  and  Power 247 

Desire  of  Knowledge 248 

THE  AFFECTIONS. 

Natural  Affections,  Love,  Sympathy,  and  Self-L  >ve 250 

Love,  Altruism,  Benevolence,  etc 251 

Sympathy,  Physical  and  Mental 253 

Self- Love  and  Selfishness 255 

Moral  Affections 257 

WILL. 

definitions  and  distinctions. 

Will  and  Spontaneity 260 

Volition,  Different  Meanings  of 261 

Executive  Volition 263 

Generic  and  Specific  Volitions 265 

Motives,  Objective  and  Subjective 268 

Motive  as  Cause 270 

Motive  as  End,  Strength  of  Motives 272 

Conflict  of  Motives 273 

Desire,  as  Related  to  Will 274 

FREEDOM    OF    THE    WILL. 

Freedom  and  Causation 278 

Freedom  and  the  Soul 285 

Freedom  and  God's  Foreknowledge 288 

Direct  Arguments  for  Freedom 288 

Testimony  of  Consciousness 290 

Uniformity  of  Human  Action 291 

Po*ver  of  Rational  Conduct 293 

Limitations  of  Freedom 294 


INTRODUCTION. 


PHILOSOPHY  is  the  science  of  first  principles,  that  is,  the 
principles  which  underlie  all  science  and  all  knowledge. 
Though  often  derided  by  those  who  say,  "  Let  us  study 
phenomena,  and  leave  abstractions  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves," philosophy  is  yet  justified  even  by  these  ungrateful 
children,  for  they,  too,  are  constrained,  even  unconsciously,  to 
resort  to  metaphysical  principles,  and  have  each  a  philosophy 
of  his  own. 

"  The  adepts  in  any  of  the  special  sciences  never  come  to  a 
full  understanding  of  their  own  subjects  of  inquiry  without 
encroaching  on  metaphysical  ground,  and  even  our  physicists 
find  themselves  studying  and  teaching  metaphysics  unawares." 
(Bowen.)  "  We  are  compelled  in  every  explanation  of  natural 
phenomena  to  leave  the  sphere  of  sense,  and  pass  to  things 
which  are  not  objects  of  sense,  and  are  defined  by  abstract 
conceptions."   (Helmholtz.) 

Indeed,  the  most  characteristic  conceptions  of  modern 
physical  science,  evolution,  development,  morphology,  con- 
servation of  energy,  correlation  of  forces,  pangenesis — all  are 
philosophical  ideas,  not  subject  to  observation.     "When  the 


6  The  Intellect. 

doctrine  of  morphology  was  first  explained  to  Schiller,  he 
exclaimed,  '  This  is  not  an  observation,  but  an  idea.' "  "  The 
fundamental  ideas  of  modern  science  are  as  transcendental  as 
any  of  the  axioms  of  ancient  philosophy."  (Lewes.)  "The 
highest  generalizations  of  physical  research  bring  us  face  to 
face  with  certain  conceptions  which  are  purely  ideal  and 
rational,  that  is,  metaphysical  ideas.  Such  are  the  ideas  of 
substance,  cause,  force,  life,  order,  proportion,  law,  purpose, 
unity,  identity." 

Philosophy,  then,  is  a  necessity  of  the  human  mind;  even 
those  who  assail  it  do  so  with  its  own  weapons.  "Aristotle 
long  ago  remarked  that  we  are  compelled  to  philosophize  in 
order  to  prove  that  philosophy  itself  is  illusory  and  vain." 
(Bowen.)  Many  modern  scientific  writers  "are  endeavoring  to 
substitute  for  philosophy  proper  a  species  of  speculative 
.physical  science,  in  which,  however,  careful  analysis  will  always 
detect  an  unsuspected  residuum  of  purely  metaphysical  prin- 
ciples."   (Cocker.) 

Philosophy  may  therefore  be  said  to  be  a  defence  of  funda- 
mental truth.  Errors  in  science,  in  ethics,  in  theology,  in 
government,  in  legislation,  are  usually  founded  on  abstract 
principles,  assumed,  perhaps  unconsciously,  without  proof,  or 
without  the  application  of  the  criteria  of  truth.  To  detect  and 
expose  such  errors  requires  us  to  recur  to  first  principles,  and 
establish  them  on  firm  and  reasonableN  bases,  to  define  those 
fundamental  truths  without  which  science  and  reasoning  are 
alike  impossible.  The  science  of  geometry  depends  on  the 
abstract  conception  of  space,  arithmetic  on  number,  law  on 
right,  ethics  on  duty,  physics  on  cause,  esthetics  (the  science  of 
criticism)  on  beauty. 

In  English  the  word  philosophy  is  often  used  in  connection 
with  the  names  of  the  sciences,  as  philosophy  of  geometry, 
philosophy  of  physics,  of  law,  of  education,  of  art,  etc.     This 


Introduction.  7 

does  not  imply  that  each  of  these  subjects  is  a  branch  of 
philosophy,  nor  that  each  has  within  itself  a  different  kind  of 
philosophy,  but  denotes  the  abstract  principles,  the  meta- 
physical ideas  of  each  science  or  subject,  as  philosophically 
determined. 

Philosophy  may  thus  be  defended  as  a  delightful  pursuit 
and  exercise  of  the  mind.  As  Moliere's  M.  Jourdain  was 
delighted  to  find  that  he  had  been  talking  prose  all  his  life,  so 
it  is  very  pleasant  for  an  acute  mind  to  find  that  the  questions 
and  difficulties  which  naturally  arise  within  itself  have  been 
experienced,  discussed,  and  answered  by  other  such  minds  in 
all  the  ages.  To  many  minds  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  is  the 
highest  of  all  pleasures;  much  more,  then,  is  there  attractiveness 
in  the  highest  kind  of  knowledge,  in  pure  science,  where  ulti- 
mate truth  is  sometimes  difficult  and  disputed,  but,  when  found 
and  proved,  embraces  all  being  in  its  scope,  and  brings 
together  all  the  sciences  in  a  fascinating  unity. 

Philosophy,  besides  being  necessary  and  valuable  for  its 
own  sake,  is  useful: — 

t.  For  training  the  mind  to  a  philosophical  temper,  a 
candid  love  of  truth,  a  calm  confidence'in  itself.  "  There  is  a 
philosophic  spirit  which  is  far  more  valuable  than  any  limited 
acquirements  of  philosophy;  ...  a  spirit  which  is  quick  to 
pursue  whatever  is  within  the  reach  of  human  intellect, 
but  which  is  not  less  quick  to  discern  the  bounds  that 
limit  every  human  inquiry;  .  .  .  which  knows  how  to  dis- 
tinguish what  is  just  in  itself  from  what  is  merely  accredited 
by  illustrious  names;  .  .  .  adopting  a  truth  which  no  one  has 
sanctioned,  and  rejecting  an  error,  of  which  all  approve,  with 
the  same  calmness  as  if  no  judgment  were  opposed  to  its  own; 
.  .  .  yet  applauding  gladly  whatever  is  worthy  of  applause  in 
a  rival  system,  and  venerating  the  very  genius  which  it  demon- 
strates to  have  erred."     (Dr.  T.  Brown.) 


8  The  Intellect. 

2.  For  counteracting  some  injurious  tendencies  of  the  cur- 
rent devotion  to  physical  studies.  "  The  utility  of  metaphy- 
sics rises  in  proportion  to  the  progress  of  the  natural  sciences, 
and  to  the  greater  attention  which  they  engross."  .(Sir  W. 
Hamilton.)  The  natural  tendency  of  exclusive  attention  to 
any  one  class  of  studies  is  toward  a  narrow-minded  dogmatism. 
In  these  times  physical  studies  need  no  recommendation;  they 
are  forced  upon  the  attention  of  every  person  who  thinks  or 
studies  at  all.  There  is  no  danger  that  physics  will  be  neg- 
lected for  philosophy,  but  quite  the  opposite.  A  symmetrical 
culture  demands  that  some  attention  be  paid  to  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  knowledge,  the  nature  of  reasoning,  the  limitations  of 
the  mind,  the  existence  of  the  soul  and  God. 

3.  For  developing  intellectual  power.  "The  intellect" 
says  Aristotle,  "  is  perfected  not  by  knowledge  but  by  activity." 
Says  Malebranche,  ';  If  I  held  truth  captive  in  my  hand  I 
should  open  my  hand  and  let  it  fly,  in  order  that  I  might  again 
pursue  and  capture  it."  "  Energy,"  says  Hamilton,  "  is  the 
means  by  which  our  faculties  are  developed.  All  profitable 
study  is  a  silent  disputation,  an  intellectual  gymnastic.  .  .  . 
It  is  this  condition,  imposed  upon  the  stude-nt,  of  doing  every- 
thing himself,  that  renders  the  study  of  the  mental  sciences  the 
most  improving  exercise  of  intellect."  But  it  is  not  only  the 
power  of  abstract  thought  which  is  developed  and  strengthened 
by  the  study  of  philosophy;  clearness  and  accuracy  of  thought 
and  of  language  are  cultivated  by  these  studies  as  by  no  others; 
and  only  those  accustomed  to  philosophical  discussions  can 
appreciate  the  great  scarcity  of  these  all-important  qualities  in 
the  world  of  thought  and  literature. 

The  term  metaphysics  is  often  used  as  the  equivalent  of 
philosophy;  indeed,  some  writers  formally  define  the  one  term 
by  the  other.  The  best  and  most  recent  usage,  however,  tends 
to  restrict  the  term  metaphysics  to  a  more   narrow  province. 


Introduction.  9 

Philosophy  is,  in  this  usage,  a  more  general  term,  covering  all 
study  of  abstract  principles.  The  term  science  was  formerly 
much  used  in  the  same  signification,  and  the  science  of  any 
thing  was  said  to  be  the  knowledge  of  its  principles  and  causes. 
But  science  is  now  generally  used  to  denote  the  knowledge  of 
phenomena,  experimentally  ascertained.  Thus  we  have  the 
"sciences"  of  botany,  of  mineralogy,  consisting  almost  en- 
tirely of  classification  and  description;  and  even  the  "  science 
of  psychology"  is  sometimes  understood  to  mean  the  mere 
description  and  classification  of  the  phenomena  of  the  senses 
and  the  intellect.  The  term  empirical  psychology  is  also  used 
for  this,  the  concrete,  and  rational  psychology  for  the  abstract 
or  metaphysical  part,  of  this  science. 

According  to  Lotze,  the  problem  of  philosophy  is  to  bring 
the  separate  departments  of  thought  into  unity  and  connection, 
and  especially  to  investigate  those  ideas  which  are  principles 
of  judgment  in  life  and  in  the  various  sciences.  And  the  term 
philosophy  means  either  the  investigation  which  has  this  end 
in  view,  or  the  systematic  presentation  of  the  results  so  obtained. 
(Dictate,  Logik,  etc.,  §88.) 

Lotze  also  says  that  metaphysics  has  for  its  aim  to  reconcile 
all  the  contradictions  into  which  we  are  led  by  unscientific 
thought  and  by  the  separate  pursuit  of  the  different  sciences. 
He  divides  metaphysics  into  three  parts,  (1)  ontology,  which 
asks,  what  are  being,  existence,  action,  etc.;  (2)  cosmology, 
which  asks,  what  are  space,  time,  motion,  etc.;  (3)  rational 
psychology,  which  treats  of  the  connection  between  the  ob- 
jective world  and  the  spiritual  world,  or  the  problem  of  knowl- 
edge.    (Dictate,  Metaphysik,  §§1,  6.) 

Mansel  divides  metaphysics  into  two  parts,  "  (1)  psychology, 
or  the  science  of  the  facts  of  consciousness  as  such;  (2)  ontol- 
ogy, or  the  science  of  the  same  facts  considered  in  their  rela- 
tion to  realities  existing  without  the  mind."     (Metaphysics,  29.) 


io  The  Intellect. 

"  Philosophy  of  nature "  (German  natur-philosophie),  is  a 
very  useful  term,  meaning,  not  natural  philosophy,  which  in 
English  has  come  to  mean  physics,  but  the  rational  explana- 
tion of  the  laws  of  matter.  Under  this  title  Lotze  discusses 
matter,  force,  inertia,  attraction,  life,  development,  as  well  as 
space,  time,  and  motion,  which  also  appear  in  metaphysics. 

Logic,  which  discusses  the  principles  of  reasoning,  ethics, 
which  discusses  the  principles  of  obligation,  and  theology 
proper,  which  discusses  the  being  and  attributes  of  God,  are 
often  called  departments  of  philosophy. 

There  is  a  tendency  in  some  quarters  to  use  the  term  phi- 
losophy in  a  restricted  sense,  nearly  equivalent  to  ontology. 
"Philosophy  is  the  science  of  the  Absolute."  (Schelling.) 
"Philosophy  is  the  science  of  Being."  (Morris.)  "It  is  the 
investigation  of  those  principles  on  which  all  knowledge  and 
all  being  ultimately  rest."     (Fleming.) 

We  approve  rather  of  the  following  definitions :  "  Philosophy 
is  the  science  of  sciences."  (Ulrici.)  "Philosophy  is  a 
rational  explanation  of  things  existing  and  of  things  occurring." 
(Calderwood.)  "A  knowledge  of  things'  by  their  causes." 
(Aristotle.)  "  Philosophy  is  the  science  of  first  principles. 
(Morell.)  "  Philosophy  is  the  attainment  of  truth  by  the  way 
of  reason."     (Ferrier.) 

We  remark  in  general  that  many  writers  use  all  these  terms 
with  culpable  vagueness  and  uncertainty,  not  informing  them- 
selves of  the  received  uses  of  words,  or  not  strictly  adhering  to 
their  own  definitions. 


1> 


DEFINITIONS. 


Psychology  is  the  science  of  the  mind.  Science  is  accurate 
knowledge,  systematically  arranged. 

The  mind  is  that  which  knows,  feels,  and  wills.  The  real- 
ity and  nature  of  this  subject  of  these  peculiar  phenomena  is 
reserved  for  discussion  after  we  have  studied  the  phenomena. 

The  term  "  Psychology  "  is  the  best  to  designate  this  science, 
for  the  following  reasons:— 

1.  It  has  long  been  in  use  in  other  languages.  In  Latin 
psychologia  can  be  traced  as  far  back  as  1594.  In  German 
and  French  psychologie  is  said  to  have  been  in  use  over  two 
centuries. 

2.  It  covers  the  exact  field  intended,  including  all  the 
phenomena  of  mind,  but  excluding  the  combinations  of  ab- 
stract thought.  It  admits  a  comparison  of  the  human  mind 
with  the  mind  of  the  lower  animals,  if  any  light  can  be  so  ob- 
tained. Other  terms  include  too  much  or  contain  too  little. 
"  Mental  Science,"  may  include  metaphysics  and  logic. 
"Science  of  Mind,"  includes  only  the  intellect,  and  "science" 
is  now  very  generally  understood  to  mean  physical  and  natural 
science  only.  "  Mental  Philosophy  "  properly  means  rational 
psychology,  including  the  intellect  alone,  and  has,  moreover, 
the  effect  of  placing  this  science  among  a  large  class  of  sub- 
jects to  which  the  term  philosophy  is,  in  English,  applied,  such 
as  Natural  Philosophy,  Philosophy  of  Literature,  Philosophy 
of  Government,  of  Education,  even  of  Cookery. 

3.  It  corresponds  with  many  other  names  of  sciences  in 


12  The  Intellect. 

English;  Geology,  Theology,  Physiology,  Philology,  etc.,  and 
like  them,  forms  an  adjective  in  cal  and  an  adverb  in  cally. 

Human  psychology  is  the  science  of  the  mind  of  man.  *  The 
description  of  the  manifestations  of  mind  in  the  lower  animals 
would  enlarge  the  subject  too  much,  and,  though  great  expec- 
tations were  at  one  time  indulged  of  the  enlarged  and  accurate 
knowledge  of  the  human  mind  to  be  gained  by  the  methods  of 
physiology  and  biology,  very  small  results  can,  as  yet,  be  pointed 
out,  and  comparative  psychology  is  still  a  somewhat  unfruitful 
science.  The  present  subject,  therefore,  is  the  intellect  of  man, 
explanations  or  arguments  derived  from  comparison  with  the 
mind  of  brutes  being,  however,  not  at  all  excluded. 

The  usual  division  of  the  powers,  or  faculties,  or  functions, 
of  the  mind  is  into  three  great  classes  or  kinds,  called  the  in- 
tellect, the  sensibilities,  and  the  will.  The  first  great  division, 
the  intellect,  which  forms  our  present  subject,  is  further  divided 
into  three,  the  presentative,  representative,  and  reasoning 
powers,  or  faculties. 

The  term  faculty  does  not  denote  or  imply  an  organ  or 
separate  part  of  the  mind,  but  a  mode  of  operation  of  the 
whole  mind.  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  philosophers  have 
generally  committed  the  error  of  dividing  the  mind  into  sep- 
arate parts  or  organs.  Scarcely  a  work  on  the  subject  can  be 
found  which  does  not  contain  a  caution  as  to  the  real  import  of 
the  word  faculty.  Nor  is  it  meant  or  implied  that  the  mind  can- 
not act  in  more  than  one  way  at  the  same  time.  We  can 
think,  feel,  and  act,  all  at  once.  We  can  perceive  and  remem- 
ber ai"  the  same  moment.  We  can  see  and  hear  at  the  same 
time. 


THE    INTELLECT. 


PART  I. 
PRESENTATIVE  POWER. 


The  presentative  power  is  the  faculty  of  observation  or  ex- 
perience, including  sensation,  perception,  and  consciousness. 
When  considered  as  it  is  by  us,  in  immediate  connection  with 
all  the  elements  involved  in  it,  it  is  properly  styled  the  faculty 
of  cognition  or  knowledge.  But  we  adopt  this  classification 
and  division  because  it  is  very  common  and  sufficiently  con- 
venient, not  because  it  is  ideally  perfect  or  without  any  objec- 
tions. In  fact  every  act  of  perception  involves  the  activity  of 
each  of  the  great  divisions  of  the  mental  powers.  The  mind 
acting  as  intellect,  knows  some  external  object;  the  mind  act- 
ing as  sensibility,  has  feeling,  experiences  pleasure,  pain,  disgust, 
interest,  or  some  other  feeling,  as  excited  by  some  relation  of 
the  object;  the  mind  acting  as  will,  chooses  to  what  part  of  the 
object  or  to  which  of  several  objects  the  attention  shall  be 
directed,  so  that  that  particular  object  or  part  of  an  object  is 
alone  perceived. 

But  again,  the  intellect  may  be  said  to  exert  all  its  faculties 

in  perception.     Sensation  must  furnish  the  materials,  but  the 

very  method  of  sensation,  as  we  shall  see,  is  discrimination, 

2 


14  The  Intellect. 

distinguishing  the  different  states  of  the  sense-organs,  and  dis- 
crimination is  usually  classed  as  a  function  of  the  judgment, 
under  the  reasoning  power.  Perception  is  inseparable  from 
consciousness,  and  its  method  again,  is  discrimination,  dis- 
tinguishing between  different  objects,  and  between  external 
objects  and  the  ego.  Moreover,  perception  is  to  such  an  ex- 
tent cultivated  by  experience  that  practically,  as  we  shall  see, 
we  never  perceive  without  former  perceptions  being  supplied 
by  the  memory,  while  the  imagination  very  often  comes  in  to 
construct  in  full  the  object  which  is  really  perceived  only  in 
part.  Thus  we  shall  be  forced,  on  any  system,  to  repeat  our- 
selves occasionally,  and  to  treat  separately  things  which  never 
actually  occur  in  separation. 

Prof.  A.  Bain  has  attempted  to  escape  these  difficulties  by 
starting  from  the  first  principles  of  knowledge,  which  are,  he 
says,  agreement  and  similarity;  but  he  is  forced  to  add  a  third 
thing,  retentiveness  or  memory,  which  is  not  at  all  a  principle 
parallel  with  the  other  two,  but  a  faculty,  taken  from  the  old 
subdivision,  which  even  he  cannot  wholly  escape.  And  his 
arrangement  leads  him  into  numerous  repetitions,  several  cross- 
divisions,  and  some  contradictions.  We  judge  it  to  be  far 
better  to  adhere  to  the  old  method,  classifying  the  powers  of 
the  mind  rather  than  the  results  of  their  action  or  the  ultimate 
elements  of  knowledge. 

Under  the  head  of  presentative  power  we  shall  discuss  sen- 
sation, perception,  and  the  necessary  or  a  priori  elements  in- 
volved in  them,  with  several  connected  topics;  giving  then  an 
historical  sketch,  with  some  critical  discussions.  We  begin 
with  sensation,  as  the  lowest  and  simplest  mental  act. 


SENSATION. 

Sensation  is  "an  impression  made  upon  the  mind  through 
the  medium  of  the  organs  of  sense;  feeling,  awakened  by  ex- 
ternal objects  or  by  some  change  in  the  internal  state  of  the 
body."  (The  Webster  Dictionary.)  Every  part  of  the  body 
is  supplied  with  nerves,  which  may  be  roughly  compared  to 
telegraphic  wires,  and  which  are  capable  of  conveying  im- 
pressions from  their  outer  extremities  to  the  brain.  Whether 
they  transmit  their  messages  by  chemical  change  in  their  sub- 
stance, or  by  some  molecular  disturbance  similar  to  electrical 
action,  is  not  definitely  known.  The  description  of  these 
nerves,  of  the  brain,  and  of  the  organs  of  sense,  belongs  to  the 
science  of  physiology,  and  the  explanation  of  their  mechanical 
action  belongs  to  physics,  optics,  acoustics,  etc. 

But  a  knowledge,  however  intimate,  of  the  organs  and  their 
action,  can  throw  no  light  on  sensation  proper.  How  it  is 
that  impulses  on  the  nervous  system,  occasioned  by  external 
objects,  are  taken  up  by  the  mind  and  transformed  into  knowl- 
edge, is  utterly  inexplicable.  Philosophers  of  all  schools  de- 
clare the  problem  insoluble.  Even  materialists  admit  that  if 
we  could  trace  all  the  movements  of  every  molecule  of  the 
brain,  we  could  still  no  more  understand  how  a  nerve-thrill 
occasions  a  state  of  consciousness  than  "  the  appearance  of  the 
Djin  when  Aladdin  rubbed  his  lamp."  (Huxley.)  Herbert 
Spencer  says,  that,  "A  unit  of  feeling  has  nothing  in  common 
with  a  unit  of  motion."  And  Lotze  says,  "  However  we  com- 
bine the  motions  of  the  nerve-atorns,  it  never  becomes  self- 


16  The  Intellect. 

evident  that  the  last  will  no  longer  be  motion  but  must  pass 
over  into  sensation."     (Dictate,  Psychologie,  §3.) 

Three  things  are  necessary  to  a  sensation,  first  an  impres- 
sion on  the  extremity  of  a  nerve,  second  the  transmission  of 
the  impression  in  some  way  to  the  brain,  third  the  action  of 
the  mind.  The  first  is  self-evident  and  is  denied  by  no  one. 
The  second  can  be  proved  by  experiments.  When  the  affer- 
ent nerve  of  the  leg  is  divided,  or  injured  by  disease,  tickling 
the  sole  of  the  foot  causes  violent  convulsions,  but  does  not 
occasion  sensation.  The  third  is  proved  by  every-day  facts, 
as,  for  example,  when  one  goes  about  looking  for  some  article 
which  is  in  his  hand  all  the  while,  or  for  a  pair  of  spectacles 
which  are  on  t'he  top  of  his  head,  or  when  the  busy  student, 
absorbed  in  his  book,  fails  to  hear  the  clock  strike  in  the  same 
room.     - 

Yet  it  is  not  always  easy  to  decide  how  far  the  power  of  the 
brain  goes,  and  at  what  point  the  activity  of  the  soul  begins. 
Hence  we  use  the  word  mind,  which  denotes  the  whole  think- 
ing power  and  does  not  draw  a  sharp  line  between  the  body 
and  the  soul,  postponing  the  discussion  of  the  immateriality  of 
the  soul  until  we  are  prepared  for  the  question  by  study  of  its 
phenomena. 

A  sensation  proper  is  an  act  of  the  mind,  not  of  the  object. 
The  activity  of  the  object  in  making  an  impression  on  the 
organ  of  sense  is  not  sensation,  but  only  the  occasion  of  it; 
and  the  activity  of  the  organ  and  the  nerve  in  receiving  and 
transmitting  the  impression  is  not  sensation,  but  only  the  con- 
dition of  it.  Nor  is  the  impression  itself  sensation,  as  we 
have  shown,  but  the  condition  of  it. 

The  mind  receiving  these  signals  from  the  external  world, 
interprets  them  by  its  own  active  power,  and  this  is  an  act  of 
sensation,  and  the  result  of  it  is  a  sensation.  "Between  the 
mind  of  man  and  the  outer  world  are  interposed  the  nerves  of 


Sensation.  17 

the  human  body,  which  enable  the  mind  to  interpret  the  im- 
pressions of  that  world  into  the  facts  of  consciousness."  (Tyn- 
dall,  Fragments,  167.) 

It  is  true  the  word  sensation  may  be  used  in  a  wider  sense, 
and  is  actually  used  by  some  writers  to  denote  an  impression 
which  does  not  reach  consciousness.  But  this  use  of  the  word 
is  not  sanctioned  by  the  best  authority,  as  is  shown  by  the 
following  quotations  from  writers  of  widely  different  schools. 
"  Sensation  proper  is  not  purely  a  passive  state,  but  implies  a 
certain  amount  of  mental  activity."  (Morell.)  "Sensation 
properly  expresses  that  change  in  the  state  of  the  mind  which 
is  produced  by  an  impression  upon  an  organ  of  sense."  (Flem- 
ing.) "  Sensation  is  the  feeling  which  is  the  result  of  a  single 
impression  on  any  part  of  the  sensitive  organism."  (Calder- 
wood.)  "  Some  physiologists,  it  is  true,  have  spoken  of  sen- 
sation without  consciousness;  but  it  seems  very  desirable,  for 
the  sake  of  clearness  and  accuracy,  to  limit  the  application  of 
the  word  to  the  mental  change;  especially  since  the  term  '  im- 
pression '  serves  to  designate  that  change  in  the  state  of  the 
nervous  system  which  is  its  immediate  antecedent."  (Car- 
penter, Mental  Physiology,  148.)  "Where  action  is  perfectly 
automatic,  feeling  does  not  exist."  "  As  the  psychical  changes 
become  too  complicated  to  be  perfectly  automatic,  they  become 
incipiently  sensational."  (Herbert  Spencer,  Psychology,  I, 
478,  480.)  "The  sensation  arises  when  the  nervous  process 
is  transmitted  through  the  nerves  to  the  conscious  center,  often 
spoken  of  as  the  sensorium,  the  exact  seat  of  which  is  still  a 
matter  of  some  debate."     (Sully,  Illusions,  Chap.  3.) 

In  discussing  the  intelligence  of  the  lower  animals,  however, 
it  is  not  easy  to  decide  at  what  precise  point,  as  we  descend, 
the  scale  of  being,  the  term  sensation  should  be  dropped. 
The  oyster,  for  example,  has  organs  called  ocelli,  or  pigment 
spots,    from  forty  to   two  hundred  in  number,  and  when   a 


1 8  The  Intellect. 

shadow  falls  on  these  spots  it  closes  its  shell.  This  action 
cannot  be  supposed  to  show  knowledge  or  to  imply  conscious- 
ness. "These  ocelli,  by  their  number,  position,  and  office, 
indicate  that  they  are  the  medium  of  an  automatic  impulse." 
(Bascom,  Comparative  Psychology,  138.)  In  certain  annelida, 
according  to  Dr.  Carpenter,  eyes  are  found  in  the  tail,  which 
seem  to  direct  the  movements  of  that  part  alone. 

Evolutionist  writers  regard  such  impressions  as  the  rudi- 
ments of  true  sensation.  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  describes 
mind  in  these  low  animal  types  as  "  a  confused  sentiency, 
formed  of  recurrent  pulses  of  feeling."  "  At  a  stage  above  this, 
mind  is  probably  present  under  the  form  of  a  few  sensations, 
which,  like  those  yielded  by  our  own  viscera,  are  simple,  vague, 
and  incoherent.  And  from  this  upwards  the  mental  evolution 
exhibits  a  differentiation  of  these  simple  feelings  into  the  more 
numerous  kinds  which  the  special  senses  yield."  (Psychology, 
I,  189.) 

The  automatic  actions  of  the  lowest  animals  correspond  to 
those  feelings  and  actions  in  man  which  are  called  reflex,  such  as 
sneezing,  coughing,  breathing,  the  sucking  of  new-born  infants, 
etc.  In  the  higher  animals,  as  the  horse,  the  dog,  we  may 
suppose  that  sensations  are  like  our  own,  for  some  sort  of  con- 
sciousness undoubtedly  exists.  But  this  point  will  be  better 
noticed  under  the  head  of  consciousness. 

Sensation  cannot  occur  without  a  physical  organism.  If  the 
soul,  or  the  immaterial  part  of  the  mind,  could  know  objects 
directly,  without  any  nerves  or  sense-organs,  such  knowing 
would  be  intuition,  not  sensation. 

The  nature  of  the  activity  of  the  mind  in  sensation  is  that 
it  is  a  discriminating  one,  distinguishing  like  from  unlike  and 
the  same  from  different.  It  is  only  change  in  the  state  of  the 
organism  which  makes  sensation  possible.  "  Idem  sentire  ac 
non  sentire  ad  idem  recidunt"     (Hobbes.)     " Every    mental 


Sensation.  19 

experience  is  necessarily  twofold.  In  every  feeling  there  are 
two  contrasting  states;  in  every  act  of  knowledge  two  things 
that  are  known."  "  This  change  of  feeling  is  completely  ex- 
pressed by  the  word  discrimination,  and  is  the  basis  of  all  our 
intelligence;  as  pleasure  or  pain  it  is  nothing,  but  as  the  com- 
mencement of  knowledge  it  is  all-important."  (Bain,  The 
Senses  and  the  Intellect,  8,  91.) 

An  impression  on  the  organs  which  is  not  discriminated  or 
attended  to  by  the  mind  soon  ceases  to  be  a  sensation.'  The 
roar  of  the  cotton-mill  is  not  heard  by  the  weavers;  the  smell 
of  the  tannery  does  not  offend  the  tanner.  In  such  cases  con- 
stant use  probably  produces  a  modification  of  the  sensory  ap- 
paratus, so  that  the  receptive  power  is  dulled.  On  the  other 
hand,  constant  discriminative  use  cultivates  the  organs,  so  that 
a  far  smaller  stimulus  of  the  nerves  suffices  to  occasion  a  sen- 
sation. A  watch-maker  or  engraver  has  far  more  delicate 
sight  and  touch  than  other  men.  Blind  persons  cultivate 
touch  and  hearing  to  a  wonderful  degree. 

How  this  discrimination  occurs  is  unknown.  "  Search  as 
we  will  the  nature  of  waves  of  light,  we  never  discover  any 
reason  why  they  are  seen  as  light  and  not  heard  as  sound,  just 
as  little  why  they  are  perceived  as  red,  blue,  or  green."  (Lotze.) 
Different  nerves  respond  to  different  stimuli;  the  nerve  of  the 
ear  is  not  affected  by  light  waves,  nor  that  of  the  eye  by  sound 
waves;  nor  can  either  bring  into  consciousness  by  any  mistake, 
an  impression  appropriate  to  another,  nor  any  hint  of  the  proc- 
ess of  sensation  itself.  A  pain  in  the  finger  does  not  appear 
in  consciousness  as  a  decay  of  tissue,  nor  as  an  engorgement 
of  the  capillary  vessels,  nor  as  a  dissociation  of  the  atoms  of 
the  molecules  of  the  tissues,  nor  as  a  vibration  nor  any  action 
of  the  nerve,  but  as  a  pain.  An  impression  of  sound-waves 
upon  the  ear  does  not  reach  the  mind  as  a  picture  of  a  bell,  or 
any  other  sonorous  object,  nor  as  a  vibration  of  the  air,  nor  as 


20  The  Intellect. 

a  process  in  the  ear,  nor  as  an  activity  of  the  nerve  and  brain, 
but  as  a  sensation  of  sound.  The  result  of  the  process  of 
sensation  is  not  an  idea,  nor  an  image,  as  taught  by  John 
Locke  and  many  others,  but  a  sensation. 

We  proceed  to  classify  acts  of  sensation,  or  sensations. 


SENSATIONS. 


Sensations  may  be  distinguished  according  to  their  nature 
in  three  different  ways. 

i.  According  to  their  peculiar  nature  with  reference  to  the 
object  which  occasions  them;  as,  sensations  of  light,  sound, 
smell,  pain,  heat,  etc.     This  peculiarity  is  usually  called  quality. 

2.  According  to  the  strength  of  the  occasioning  impulse;  as 
faint,  moderate,  intense.  It  is  quite  probable  that  the  inten- 
sity of  the  sensation  and  the  intensity  of  the  exciting  impulse 
do  not  vary  in  the  same  ratio.  According  to  Weber,  if  the 
intensity  of  the  sensation  increases  in  an  arithmetical  ratio, 
that  of  the  impulse  must  increase  in  a  geometrical  ratio.  For 
example,  a  sound,  to  be  twice  as  loud  in  sensation,  must  be 
occasioned  by  four  times  as  violent  an  impulse. 

3.  According  to  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  sensation  as 
agreeable,  disagreeable,  or  indifferent.  This  peculiarity  is 
called  by  the  Germans  tone.     Bain  calls  it  quality. 

Sensations  may  be  again  distinguished  according  to  their  con- 
tent, or  significance,  into  internal  and  external,  or  bodily  and 
mental. 

1.  Internal  sensations,  or  feelings,  relate  to  the  condition 
and  needs  of  the  body,  and  may  be  divided  into  local  and 


Sensations.  2 1 

general.  Local  internal  sensations  involve  only  one  or  a  few 
nerves,  and  are  such  as  hunger,  thirst,  pain  from  a  slight  injury, 
tickling,  sneezing,  nausea,  pricking  caused  by  impeded  circu- 
lation (foot-asleep),  tingling  caused  by  striking  the  nerve  in 
the  elbow  (crazy-bone),  etc.  General  internal  sensations  in- 
volve entire  provinces  of  the  nervous  system,  and  are  such  as 
fatigue,  exhilaration,  shuddering,  the  depresssion  of  dyspepsia, 
spasm,  cramp,  the  shock  of  a  severe  injury,  etc. 

2.  External  sensations  relate  to  impressions  received  from 
the  outside  world,  and  may  be  sub-divided  into  feneral  and 
special.  Special  external  sensations  are  those  which  involve 
special  external  organs,  provided  with  short  nerves  called  sen- 
sorial nerves,  all  situated  within  the  skull.  They  are  sight, 
hearing,  smell,  and  taste.  General  external  sensations  are  those 
which  depend  upon  nerves  pervading  the  whole  body,  even 
the  special  sense-organs  themselves.  They  are  touch,  heat 
and  cold,  motion  or  position  of  the  muscles,  pressure  and  re- 
sistance. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  old  division  of  five  senses  is  very 
defective.  If  we  are  to  speak  at  all  of  the  five  senses,  how- 
ever, we  may  divide  them  into  two  classes,  direct  and  indirect; 
those  which  receive  impressions  by  direct  contact  with  the 
external  object,  touch,  taste,  and  smell;  and  those  which  re- 
ceive impressions  through  a  medium,  hearing  and  sight. 

The  internal  sensations  are  not  of  importance  to  our  present 
purpose,  and  are  sufficiently  explained  by  physiology.  We 
need  only  attend  to  those  which,  when  interpreted  and  com- 
bined by  the  mind,  convey  to  us  impressions  from  the  outside 
world. 

Before  we  discuss  the  different  senses  in  detail  we  need  to 
define  and  explain  the  term  perception,  so  that  we  can  speak 
intelligently  of  the  perceptions  of  each  sense  under  the  appro- 
priate head. 


PERCEPTION, 


Perception  is  the  knowledge  of  the  external  world.  Its 
method  or  process  is  the  combination  and  interpretation  of 
the  sensations,  by  the  activity  of  the  mind  itself.  Sensations 
may  exist  without  perception,  but  perception  cannot  exist  with- 
out sensation. 

11  Perception  is  the  power  of  the  soul  to  localize  its  sensa- 
tions."    (Lotze.) 

"  Perception  is  the  act  by  which  the  mind  refers  sensations 
to  their  source."  (Murphy.)  "The  mental  recognition  of 
the  object  is  dependent  on  a  higher  process  [than  sensation], 
to  which  the  name  perception  is  now  accorded."  (Carpenter, 
Mental  Physiology,  177.)  "As 'the  soul  translates  neural 
affections  into  subjective  sensations,  so  the  soul,  in  perception, 
translates  the  subjective  sensation  into  objective  cognition, — a 
translation  of  a  translation."  (Cocker,  Psychology,  92.)  "In 
order  that  sensation  may  become  perception  there  needs  the 
spontaneous  energy  of  the  intellect,  which  distinguishes  and 
recognizes  the  state  of  the  sensibility,  and  'streaming  out 
through  the  instruments  of  sense,'  refers  that  state  to  an  ex- 
ternal excitant  or  source."  (Martineau.)  "  Perception  groups 
or  organizes  several  sensations  into  one  idea."  (Maudsley, 
Physiology  of  Mind,  272.) 

The  term  perception  was  formerly  used  in  a  far  wider  sense, 
including  the  whole  of  cognition,  and  is  still  used  figuratively 
to  denote  the  apprehension  of  abstract  truth.  In  philosophy 
it  was  restricted  by  Reid  to  apprehension  through  sense  alone, 


Perception.  23 

and  is  now  generally  used  in  this  sense.  Hence  the  term 
sense-perception,  used  by  some,  does  not  seem  necessary,  since 
all  perception  is  understood  to  be  sense-perception. 

We  are  obliged  in  English  to  use  the  verb  "  to  perceive"  in  a 
somewhat  figurative  meaning,  because  the  verb  "to  sense"  is  not 
in  good  usage.  Thus  we  say,  "  I  perceived  a  smell  of  musk," 
where  we  ought  to  be  able  to  say,  "  I  sensed  a  smell  of  musk," 
or  might  correctly  say,  "  I  perceived  musk  by  the  smell."  The 
verb  "to  sense,"  or  some  exact  equivalent,  is  a  term  needed  in 
English  philosophy,  in  which  confusion  has  sometimes  arisen 
for  the  want  of  it. 

The  product  of  perception  is  called  a  percept.  A  sensation 
of  light  may  be  produced  by  pressing  on  the  eyeball  or  by  an 
electric  current,  but  this  is  not  perception,  nor  its  product  a 
percept.  When,  however,  a  distant  light  excites  a  sensation  of 
light  through  the  eye,  the  mind  perceives  the  light,  through 
the  sensation  of  light,  and  forms  a  percept  of  a  light.  Then, 
if  other  percepts  be  combined  with  this  one,  until  the  mind 
perceives,  for  example,  a  red  lantern  of  globular  form,  this 
process  is  still  called  perception,  but  the  completed  result  of 
the  combination  is  called  an  object,  or  mental  object.  If  the 
eye  be  color-blind,  the  knowledge  derived  from  these  sensa- 
tions may  be  defective;  if  the  mind  be  inattentive,  or  under 
the  influence  of  association,  or  prejudice,  or  excitement,  the 
data  of  the  senses  may  be  misinterpreted,  and  false  results  be 
reached.  A  large  dose  of  the  drug  santonine  makes  all  objects 
appear  yellow. 

Original  or  natural  perception  is  the  use  of  a  single  sense, 
without  aid  from  experience  or  the  assistance  of  the  other 
senses.  Cultivated  or  acquired  perception  is  perception  as 
corrected  by  experience  and  by  the  combination  of  different 
sensations.  This  is  really  a  process  of  association.  Thus,  we 
have   no   natural  perception  of  distance;  but  by  walking  or 


24  The  Intellect. 

reaching  out  we  establish  connections  between  sensations,  by 
which  we  ever  after  seem  to  perceive  distance.  Compound 
perceptions  are  those  which  are  occasioned  by  a  number  of 
impulses  of  the  same  kind;  as  color  from  many  rays  of  light, 
form  from  many  impressions  of  direction,  a  musical  note  from 
many  vibrations  of  the  atmosphere. 

The  complete  presentation  of  an  object  is  almost  always  ef- 
fected through  many  impressions  of  one  sense  or  more  than 
one.  A  star  or  a  distant  lamp  is  seen  as  a  single  point  of 
light,  and  but  one  sensation  is  involved,  unless  it  twinkles  or 
changes  its  place  so  that  we  follow  its  motion  with  the  eye. 
Ordinary  objects,  however,  occasion  more  than  one  kind  of 
sensations,  or  else  a  definite  series  of  sensations  of  the  same 
sense.  These  sensations,  being  of  common  origin,  have  co- 
herence among  themselves  in  memory,  so  that  if  one,  or  some  of 
them  be  experienced  again  or  recalled  in  any  way,  the  others 
are  suggested,  and  the  object,  with  all  its  sensible  qualities,  is 
perceived  or  remembered.  For  example;  an  orange  occasions 
sensations  of  smell,  color,  form,  touch,  taste,  and  pressure. 
After  these  are  firmly  agglutinated  by  habit,  any  one  of  them, 
when  repeated,  may  call  up  all  the  rest,  and  we  may  perceive 
the  orange  with  all  these  qualities,  or  remember  it  as  having 
them  all,  and  not  merely  color,  or  odor,  or  form,  alone. 

The  senses  of  sight  and  touch  are  by  far  the  'richest  in  this 
kind  of  associations,  and  especially  in  connection  with  each 
other.  This  is  very  important,  as  we  shall  see,  for  the  knowl- 
edge of  form,  distance,  and  solidity,  the  acquired  perceptions 
of  sight.  It  was  upon  this  that  Berkeley  founded  his  theory  of 
vision. 

The  subject  of  association  in  general  falls  under  the  rep- 
resentative power,  and  the  acquired  perceptions  of  each  sense 
are  more  naturally  placed  each  under  its  own  sense. 

The   universal  or  necessary  elements  involved  in  sensation 


The  Senses.  25 

and  perception,  whether  called  a  priori  concepts,  intuitive  ideas, 
or  by  any  other  name,  cannot  be  intelligently  discussed  until 
we  have  described  the  sensations  of  the  different  senses  and 
the  perceptions  derived  from  them.  It  should  be  noticed  that 
some  writers  use  only  the  term  sensation,  including  under  sen- 
sation and  the  association  of  sensations  all  that  we  call  per- 
ception. This  is  against  philosophical  usage,  and  is  con- 
nected with  their  peculiar  theories  of  the  mind,  to  which  #we 
shall  return  further  on. 


THE  SENSES. 


We  begin  with  the  simplest  and  least  complicated,  and  the 
one  having,  in  itself  considered,  the  least  intellectual  content. 

SENSE    OF    SMELL. 

The  sense  of  smell  is  attached  to  a  portion  of  the  mucous 
membrane  which  lines  the  nostrils  and  nasal  passages,  called 
the  pituitary  membrane.  Here  is  spread  out  a  network  of 
fine  branching  nerves  which  have  the  power  of  responding  to 
certain  chemical  properties  of  some  bodies.  The  excitation 
of  the  nerve  is  probably  effected  through  the  oxidation,  that 
is,  decomposition,  of  the  molecules  of  the  object,  which 
must  be  presented  in  the  form  of  a  gas  or  fine  powder,  and 
carried  by  a  current  of  air  in  respiration.  Solid  bodies  in  a 
state  of  fine  powder  are  usually,  however,  so  irritating  as  to  cause 
sneezing  and  interfere  with  the  normal  action  of  the  sensorial 
nerve.  Gases  may  also  be  irritating  in  the  same  way,  as 
ammonia.  Some  refer  this  irritation  to  the  sense  of  touch, 
(Bain),  but   it   is  more   probably  to   be   referred  to  an  over- 


26  The  Intellect. 

stimulation  of  those  particular  nerves  which  are  adapted  to 
transmit  impulses  due  to  chemical  qualities. 

A  gas  or  vapor  may  be  exceedingly  diffuse  and  yet  produce 
a  strong  odor.  A  very  small  amount  of  matter  from  a  volatile 
substance  may  give  rise  to  sensation.  It  is  said  that  a  grain  of 
musk  will  emit  a  strong  odor  for  years  without  any  perceptible 
diminution  in  weight.  According  to  the  experiments  of 
Ficjt  a  two-millionth  of  a  milligram  is  sufficient  to  excite  a 
sensation  of  smell. 

Sensations  of  smell  require  a  longer  time  than  any  other  for 
discriminative  attention.  When  we  wish  to  distinguish  a  faint 
odor  or  a  new  one,  we  "  take  a  good  sniff."  Yet  the  organ 
soon  becomes  wearied  and  ceases  to  respond,  if  the  same 
stimulus  is  long  continued.  A  constant  odor  is  not  perceived. 
The  tanner  does  not  smell  his  tannery.  Students  in  a  close 
lecture  room  do  not  perceive  the  foulness  of  the  air;  but  if 
one  goes  out  for  a  moment  into  fresh  air  and  then  returns,  he 
finds  it  overpowering.  This  shows  also  the  necessity  of  con- 
trast, and  goes  to  establish  what  we  have  said  of  discrimina- 
tion as  the  basis  of  all  sensation.  Smells  can  only  be  de- 
scribed by  reference  to  our  previous  experience.  The  terms, 
pungent,  nauseating,  sweet,  acrid,  ethereal,  fragrant,  applied  to 
smells,  have  no  meaning  except  through  experience.  The 
same  is  plainly  true  of  those  which  consist  in  comparisons,  as, 
like  a  rose,  like  musk,  etc. 

In  general,  substances  which  are  useful  for  food  and  drink 
have  agreeable  smells,  while  those  which  are  injurious  have 
disagreeable  ones.  Hence  this  sense  is  far  more  acute  in  the 
lower  animals  than  in  man.  The  dog,  however,  though  his 
smell  seems  miraculously  acute,  does  not  seem  to  distinguish 
smells,  or  even  tastes,  as  disagreeable  and  agreeable. 

Some  smells  cause  faintness  in  sensitive  persons,  and  the 
sweetest  perfume  becomes  sickening  if  too  often  repeated. 
u  Non  bene  olet  qui  semper  bene  olet."  (Martial.) 


Sense  of  Taste.  27 

Tfie  perceptions  of  this  sense  are  entirely  acquired.  The 
mind  knows  sensations  of  smell  only  as  in  the  nose,  and  re- 
ceives through  them  no  knowledge  whatever  of  the  external 
world.  Possibly  from  a  number  and  variety  of  simple  smells 
constantly  changing,  we  might  conclude,  even  if  we  had  no 
other  sense,  that  they  had  an  external  cause;  but  that  would 
be  inference,  not  perception.  We  refer  smells  to  objects  be- 
cause we  are  familiar  with  objects  through  the  other  senses. 
Smell  itself  can  never  inform  us  of  the  existence  of  anything 
but  our  own  organism,  as  affected  in  some  unknown  way. 

SENSE    OF    TASTE. 

The  sense  of  taste  is  attached  to  the  upper  surface  of  the 
tongue,  the  palate,  and  perhaps  part  of  the  pharynx.  As 
these  parts,  especially  the  tip  of  the  tongue,  are  capable  of 
delicate  sensations  of  touch  also,  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
separate  these  from  sensations  of  taste.  This  probably  can  be 
done  only  in  one  case,  that  of  a  strong  odor  admitted  to  the 
mouth,  which  gives  a  sensation  of  taste  in  the  back  part  of  the 
mouth,  where  the  current  of  air  converges,  with  no  sensation 
of  touch. 

The  mucous  membrane  of  these  parts  is  studded  with 
little  papillae,  thick-set  at  the  tip  of  the  tongue,  which  are  sup- 
plied with  nerves  having  the  capacity  of  being  excited  by  cer- 
tain chemical  qualities  of  some  bodies,  when  these  are  in  a 
liquid  state  or  dissolved  in  a  liquid.  No  solid  body  can  be 
tasted  unless  it  is  soluble  in  the  saliva,  and.  no  substance  can 
be  tasted  unless  it  is  capable  of  passing  through  the  mucous 
membrane  of  the  papillae.  The  researches  of  Graham  on 
dialysis,  taken  in  connection  with  his  remarkable  investiga- 
tions on  that  condition  of  bodies  called  the  colloid  state,  are 
of  interest  here.  They  go  to  show  that  nearly  all  bodies  that 
can  be  tasted  belong  to  the  crystalloid  class,  not  the  colloid  class. 
Now  bodies  of  the  colloid  class  do  not  penetrate  one  another 


28  The  Intellect. 

freely,  and  animal  membranes  belong  to  this  class.  Ifence 
starch,  gum,  albumen,  gelatine,  etc.,  have  no  real  taste  of  their 
own,  while  crystalloid  bodies,  or  those  flavored  with  a  crystalloid 
principle,  are  capable  of  exciting  strong  taste-sensations.  (Bain, 
The  Senses  and  the   Intellect,  141.) 

The  excitation  of  the  nerves  of  taste  is  probably  effected 
through  oxydation,  that  is,  decomposition  of  molecules  of  the 
body  tasted. 

The  number  of  adjectives  that  can  be  applied  to  tastes  is 
larger  than  in  the  case  of  smells;  tastes  are  more  describable. 
Yet  usually  these  descriptions  amount  to  little  more  than  com- 
parison with  sensations  previously  experienced. 

The  amount  of  matter  required  to  occasion  a  sensation  of 
taste  is  in  some  cases  very  small,  yet  far  less  small  than  occa- 
sions a  sensation  of  smell.  Valentin  says  that  a  fiftieth  of  a 
milligram  of  quinine  is  the  least  that  can  be  tasted.  The  in- 
tensity of  the  taste  depends  not  only  on  the  nature  of  the 
object  tasted,  but  also  in  part  on  the  amount  of  matter  brought 
in  contact  with  the  organ,  and,  partly,  on  contrast;  and  a  suffi- 
cient time  must  be  allowed  for  solution  of  a  solid  body  in  the 
saliva,  in  order  that  the  sensation  may  accumulate  its  force. 

It  is  held  by  some  authorities  that  there  are  three  kinds  of 
papillae,  the  real  organs  of  taste,  one  for  bitters,  one  for  salts 
and  one  for  acids.  In  general,  those  substances  which  are 
useful  have  pleasant  tastes,  while  those  which  are  injurious  are 
disagreeable.  The  perceptions  of  taste,  like  those  of  smell, 
are  all  acquired.  Sensations  of  taste  tell  us  only  of  an  exci- 
tation of  the  organ,  nothing  of  the  external  world.  Neither 
sense  gives  any  information  concerning  the  chemical  proper- 
ties of  bodies.  After  those  properties  have  been  learned  by 
us  in  other  ways  and  associated  with  certain  tastes  and  smells, 
the  taste  or  smell  will  recall  that  knowledge.  It  does  not 
originate  any  such  knowledge.  "Sensations  of  taste  and 
chemical  properties  are  heterogeneous  in  nature."     (Lotze.) 


Sense  of  Taste.  29 

The  impossibility  of  separating  sensations  of  taste  entirely 
from  those  of  touch,  and  the  extreme  delicacy  of  the  sense  of 
touch  in  the  tip  of  the  tongue,  with  the  great  mobility  of  the 
tongue,  give  an  obstinate  impression  that  we  know  the  external 
world  through  taste.  But  a  little  reflection  upon  these  facts 
will  enable  us  to  separate  them  in  thought,  and  compel  us  to 
admit  that  taste  is  as  entirely  subjective  as  smell. 

In  the  case  of  these  two  senses,  smell  and  taste,  the  object 
in  perception  is  not,  strictly  speaking,  the  same  as  that  which 
excites  the  nerves  by  a  peculiar  impulse.  What  we  actually 
smell  and  taste  is  small  particles  of  the  object,  detached  or 
volatilized,  or  dissolved  in  the  saliva.  What  we  perceive,  by 
the  aid  of  association  and  combination  with  the  other  senses, 
is,  not  these  particles,  but  the  object  from  which  they  come. 
We  know  nothing  about  the  detached  particles  until  science 
reveals  them  to  us.  When  we  smell  an  orange  we  have  a  sen- 
sation of  a  peculiar  smell,  occasioned  by  certain  volatile  parti- 
cles of  matter;  but,  aided  by  previous  experience  or  by  the 
other  senses,  we  know  this  smell  to  be  the  perfume  of  an 
orange;  and  this  is  acquired  perception.  What  we  perceive 
is  the  orange.  The  formation  of  these  acquired  perceptions 
is  vastly  assisted  by  the  inseparable  connection  between  taste 
and  touch. 

These  two  senses,  taste  and  smell,  are  the  least  intellectual 
of  all  the  external  senses.  Taste  is  usually  considered  the 
least  intellectual  of  all,  that  is,  when  taken  by  itself.  "  We 
are  inclined  to  think  that  what  are  called  the  ignoble  senses 
are  wholly  impercipient  and  would  never,  by  the  mere  suc- 
cession of  feelings,  waken  into  consciousness  the  distinction 
between  subject  and  object,  or  reveal  their  own  organic  seat." 
(Martineau.) 


30  The  Intellect. 

sense  of  hearing. 

The  organ  of  hearing  is  the  external  ear,  with  the  exceed- 
ingly complex  apparatus  connected  with  it,  the  description  of 
which  belongs  to  physiology. 

Sound  is  due  to  waves  of  alternate  condensation  and  rare- 
faction in  the  atmosphere,  caused  by  the  vibration  of  sonorous 
bodies,  the  further  discussion  of  which  belongs  to  physics. 
The  waves  of  air  affect  the  auditory  nerve  by  causing  com- 
pression of  its  filaments,  after  being  transmitted  through  the 
internal  parts  of  the  organ. 

The  most  important  distinctions  in  sensations  of  sound  are 
intensity,  pitch,  and  quality,  or  timbre.  Sounds  differ  in  in- 
tensity or  loudness  according  to  the  amplitude  of  the  vibra- 
tions of  the  sounding  body,  and  consequent  amplitude  of  the 
atmospheric  waves.  They  differ  in  pitch  according  to  the 
rapidity  of  those  vibrations,  rapid  vibration  being  known  in 
sensation  as  a  high  sound,  and  slow  vibration  as  a  low  sound. 
Sounds  are  inaudible  if  their  pitch  is  either  too  high  or  too 
low,  and  the  range  of  audibility  is  said  to  be  about  ten  octaves,  or 
from  twenty  vibrations  in  a  second  to  38,000.  The  squeal  of 
a  bat  is  audible  to  some  persons  and  not  to  others.  The  low- 
est notes  of  a  pipe-organ  are  heard  by  some  persons  as  separate 
beats  or  pulses  of  sound,  not  as  musical  notes,  showing  that 
noise  is  audible  at  a  lower  pitch  than  musical  sounds. 

Noise  and  music  differ  as  follows;  a  musical  sound  is  caused 
by  regular  and  continuous  vibrations,  and  is  comparatively 
rich  in  overtones;  a  noise  is  due  to  irregular  and  discontinu- 
ous vibrations,  comparatively  without  overtones.  Hence  the 
human  voice  is  between  the  two,  and  easily  passes  into 
music.  When  the  articulation  is  a  little  drawled  we  call 
it  sing-song;  when  the  sounds  are  dwelt  upon  and  prolonged 
with  regularity,  it  is  called  singing,  or  music. 


Sense  of  Hearing.  31 

The  differences  of  quality  between  different  musical  instru- 
ments or  different  voices  are  due  chiefly  to  the  varying  richness 
of  the  overtones,  and  Helmholtz  has  shown  that  the  vowel- 
sounds  of  language  differ  in  the  same  way,  in  their  overtones. 
Pure  tones,  without  overtones,  can  hardly  be  produced,  and 
are  of  insipid  quality.  Hence  every  single  musical  tone  is  in 
reality  a  complex  harmony,  and  its  richness  depends  upon  the 
degree  of  its  complexity.  (On  the  overtones,  etc.,  see  Tyn- 
dall,  On  Sound) 

How  different  sounds  affect  the  auditory  nerves  in  different 
ways  is  unknown.  Some  conjecture  that  there  is  a  different 
filament  corresponding  to  each  audible  pitch,  and  thus  the  ear 
is  a  kind  of  key-board,  and  each  of  the  overtones  is  separately 
heard  and  combined  with  the  others  in  a  kind  of  harmony. 
Others  think  that  sounds  differ  in  pitch  because  the  elements 
of  sensation  differ  in  length.  (Taine.)  But  this  is  only  a  re- 
statement of  the  problem. 

Sensations  of  sound  do  not,  in  primary,  natural  sensation, 
give  any  knowledge  of  anything  outside  the  organ.  It  is  only 
by  combination  with  other  senses,  by  cultivation,  and  by  asso- 
ciation, that  sounds  come  to  suggest  to  us  the  object  by  which 
they  are  caused,  with  its  various  relations.  If  a  sound  is  fa- 
miliar, we  can  tell  something  of  its  distance  by  its  loudness  or 
faintness.  If  it  is  entirely  unknown,  we  cannot  judge  of  it  at 
all.     . 

The  directions  of  sounds  can  be  perceived  to  some  extent 
through  variations  of  intensity  in  the  two  ears,  especially  on 
revolving  the  head;  if  it  is  loudest  when  the  ear  is  turned  in  a 
certain  direction,  we  judge  its  source  to  be  in  that  direction. 
In  a  dense  fog  the  sound  of  the  steam-whistle  or  fog-horn 
seems  to  come  from  the  point  whence  we  are  expecting  it  to 
come,  whatever  that  may  be.  But  if  on  going  in  a  certain 
direction,  the  sound  increases  in  loudness,  we  judge  its  source 


32  The  Intellect. 

to  lie  in  that  direction.  The  judgment  of  direction  is  at  best, 
however,  easily  mistaken.  This  is  the  reason  why  ventrilo- 
quists so  easily  deceive  us  by  directing  our  attention  and  ex- 
pectation in  certain  directions.  It  also  explains  why  so  many 
accidents  occur  in  crowded  channels  in  foggy  weather,  in  spite 
of  the  greatest  caution. 

The  discriminating  power  is  capable  of  great  cultivation, 
both  with  reference  to  musical  sounds  and  articulate  language, 
and  even  noises.  The  mind  receives  a  vast  number  and  variety 
of  sensations  through  the  ear. 

The  sounds  of  articulate  language  are  only  arbitrary  sym- 
bols, whose  meaning  is  laboriously  learned  by  the  mind.  If 
the  attention  is  directed  strongly  on  the  sounds,  as  in  listening 
to  a  foreigner  or  a  person  with  an  unfamiliar  brogue,  we  often 
miss  the  meaning  and  have  to  ask  for  a  repetition.  When  we 
pay  strict  attention  to  the  meaning  we  scarcely  notice  the  in- 
dividual sensations  of  sound. 

Sensations  of  sound  may  be  excited  abnormally;  certain 
drugs  cause  roarings  in  the  ears;  we  seem  to  hear  sounds  in 
dreams. 

It  is  affirmed  by  some  that  the  mind  perceives  the  external 
world  directly  through  the  sense  of  hearing;.  The  following 
considerations  will   probably   suffice  to   prove   the   negative. 

(i)  The  organ  of  sense  does  not  in  hearing,  as  in  touch, 
come  into  direct  contact  with  the  object,  but  a  medium,  the 
air,  must  intervene  and  convey  the  vibration  to  the  organ,  a 
kind  of  instrument  for  adapting  these  vibrations  to  the  sensory 
nerves.  Yet  there  is  no  apparatus,  as  in  sight  and  touch,  for 
following  the  outline  of  an  object,  and  thus  gaining  percep- 
tion of  form  and  solidity.  (2)  Moreover,  if  there  were  such 
an  apparatus,  its  action  would  plainly  not  give  pure  percep- 
tions through  sound,  but  acquired  perceptions  through 
the   muscular   sense   of    the    movements   and   the    different 


Sense  of  Hearing.  33 

positions  of  the  organ,  cultivated  by  memory,  experience, 
and  association.  Indeed  we  can  to  a  certain  extent,  as  has 
been  said,  vary  the  sensations  of  sound  by  moving  the  head 
and  body  and  thus  judge  of  the  source  of  sound.  But  this  is 
not  an  original  or  natural,  but  an  acquired  perception. 

"That  knowledge  of  this  kind  is  founded  on  experience 
only  is  obvious  from  the  fact  that  when  the  usual  or  the  as- 
sumed conditions  or  occasions  of  our  knowledge  are  changed, 
we  make  mistakes  in  respect  to  the  place,  direction,  and  dis- 
tance of  a  sound,  and  that  mistakes  in  respect  to  these  lead  to 
error  in  regard  to  the  object  which  occasions  it.  .  . 
The  humming  of  a  mosquito  may  be  mistaken  for  a  distant 
cry  of  alarm  or  the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  In  such  cases  the 
sound  must  first  be  removed  by  our  mistaken  judgment  to  a 
greater  distance,  in  order  that  it  may  be  ascribed  to  a  false  oc- 
casion." (Porter,  Human  Intellect,  160.)  "  The  knowledge 
of  distance  and  direction  of  sounds  is  in  reality  an  association 
between  sounds  and  movements  or  muscular  ideas."  (Bain, 
The  Senses  and  the  Intellect,  362.) 

(3)  Again,  the  sense  of  hearing  cannot  convey  to  us  any 
knowledge  of  the  external  world  under  those  modes  which  are 
called  primary  qualities  of  matter,  and  are  held  to  be  insepa- 
rable-from  the  very  being  of  matter, — extension,  weight,  etc. 
It  is  true  that  in  order  to  produce  a  sound  a  body  must  have 
extension,  hardness,  weight,  all  the  necessary  qualities  of  mat- 
ter; but  when  we  say  that  a  sound  which  we  have  heard  must 
have  proceeded  from  a  body  having  these  qualities,  that  is  in- 
ference, not  direct  perception. 

SENSE    OF    SIGHT. 

The  eye  is  a  camera  obscura,  provided  with  six  muscles,  by 
which  it  is  rotated  in  all  directions.  It  is  furnished  with  a 
movable  curtain  in  front,  the  eyelid,  to  exclude  the  light  and 
ward  off  danger.     It  has  an  adjustable  aperture   for  the  ad- 


34  The  Intellect. 

mission  of  light,  the  pupil,  and  a  double-convex  lens,  of  ad- 
justable convexity.  It  is  provided  with  a  receiving  curtain, 
the  retina,  on  which  an  inverted  image  of  the  object  is  de- 
picted, and  which  is  a  very  complex  structure,  containing  the 
terminations  of  a  vast  number  of  nerve-fibres,  which  convey 
impressions  to  the  brain. 

The  retina  of  the  human  eye  has  a  small  depressed  spot 
which  is  more  thickly  set  with  nerve-terminations  than  the 
rest  of  the  surface.  Distinct  vision  of  very  small  objects  re- 
quires a  discriminative  power  which  is  confined  to  this  spot, 
but  the  retina  is  capable  of  receiving  impressions  of  light, 
color,  and  direction,  throughout  a  considerable  segment  of  a 
sphere.  Sixty  degrees  from  the  sensitive  spot  discriminative 
power  is  said  to  be  one  hundred  and  fifty  times  less  than  in 
that  spot;  that  is,  a  body,  in  order  to  make  a  distinct  impres- 
sion on  that  part  of  the  retina  must  be  one  hundred  and  fifty 
times  larger  than  to  affect  the  sensitive  spot.  Yet  a  fainter 
light  can  be  detected  by  the  outside  portions  of  the  retina 
than  by  the  central  portion.  Fixed  stars  which  cannot  be 
seen  directly  in  front  can  sometimes  be  seen  by  turning  the 
head  a  little  to  one  side. 

The  sensitive  spot  of  the  retina,  being  necessary  for  minute 
and  accurate  vision,  is  evidently  of  vast  importance  for  the  in- 
tellectual culture  and  progress  of  the  human  race.  (Le 
Conte,  Sight.)  Nearly  all  the  rotation  of  the  eyeballs,  so 
conspicuous  in  man,  is  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  this  sensi- 
tive spot  into  range  with  some  definite  object,  for  accurate  and 
careful  vision. 

In  most  of  the  lower  animals  this  spot  is  wanting.  We  may 
hence  suppose  that  they  receive  equally  clear  impressions  on  a 
far  larger  part  of  the  retina  than  men,  that  they  use  far  less 
rotation  of  the  eyeball,  and  that  they  are  capable  of  far  less 
discrimination  of  minute  objects.     All  of  these  are  confirmed 


Sense  of  Sight.  35 

by  observation.  A  cat  can  catch  sight  of  a  rat  with  extreme 
quickness,  and  follow  its  motions  with  wonderful  closeness, 
since  no  motion  of  the  eyeball  need  intervene  to  direct  her 
movements,  at  least  for  moderate  distances.  But  undoubtedly 
she  could  not  see  to  split  one  of  the  hairs  on  the  mouse's 
back,  as  many  a  man  could  do.  A  skittish  horse  seems  to  see 
objects  in  all  directions,  which  his  rider  does  not  see,  but  as 
the  horse  does  not  see  them  clearly  enough  to  recognize  them, 
he  is  afraid  of  them.  Such  an  animal  always  goes  more 
steadily  in  a  dark  night. 

There  is  a  limit  to  minuteness  of  vision,  depending  on  the 
fineness  of  the  structure,  of  the  retina.  According  to  Weber 
and  Volkmann  two  bright  lines  must  be  separated  by  from  one 
six-thousandth  to  one  twelve-thousandth  of  an  inch,  in  order 
to  produce  a  double  sensation.  That  is,  if  nearer  together 
than  this,  they  will  be  seen  as  one  line. 

The  organ  of  sight,  like  that  of  hearing,  cannot  come  into 
contact  directly  with  an  object,  but  requires  an  intervening 
medium  to  convey  the  particular  vibrations  which  occasion  the 
sensation.  This  medium  is  a  supposed  elastic,  imponderable 
fluid,  the  ether,  whose  vibrations  are  far  more  rapid,  and  are 
propagated  at  a  far  higher  rate  of  speed  than  any  others 
known  to  us,  and  striking  upon  the  terminations  of  nerve- 
fibres  at  the  back  of  the  eye,  occasion  sensations  of  sight. 

Difference  in  color  is  due  to  difference  in  length  of  the  light- 
waves, since  all  travel  at  the  same  speed.  The  vibrations 
which  occasion  the  sensation  of  red  color  are  the  shortest  and 
most  rapid.  Plow  different  rates  of  vibration  occasion  differ- 
ent sensations  of  color  cannot  be  said  to  be  well  understood. 
The  best  conjecture  is  that  there  is  a  different  kind  of  nerve- 
terminations  for  each  of  the  primary  colors,  scattered  all  over 
the  retina,  by  combination  of  which  all  sensations  of  color  are 
formed.      But    microscopic    examination    discloses   only    two 


36  The  Intellect. 

kinds  of  minute  bodies  making  up  the  sensitive  coat  of  the 
retina,  while  the  primary  colors  are  ordinarily  supposed  to  be 
three  in  number.  Recent  investigations,  howevef,  tend  to 
show  that  there  are  four  primary  colors,  in  two  couples,  each 
of  two  complementary  colors.  Each  of  the  colors  of  a  pair 
is  supposed  to  cause  an  opposite  action  in  the  same  sensitive 
body  of  the  retina,  thus  reducing  the  kinds  of  sensitive  bodies 
required  to  two,  which  corresponds  with  the  theory  given 
above,  which  is  known  as  the  view  of  Hering. 

According  to  Le  Conte,  the  phenomena  of  color-blindness 
confirm  this  view.  A  person  who  is  genuinely  color-blind 
(not  merely  indiscriminative)  is  deficient  in  the  red-green 
couple,  while  the  yellow-blue  couple  is  unimpaired.  (Sight, 
62.)  The  phenomena  of  subjective  complementary  colors 
also  favor  this  view.  If  you  look  intently  at  a  surface  of 
bright  red,  then  at  a  white  surface,  the  latter  seems  to  have  a 
greenish  tint. 

Other  colors  pair  themselves  also,  in  such  a  way  as  to  favor 
the  theory  of  two  contrary  pairs  of  colors,  and  two  kinds  of 
sensitive  bodies  in  the  retina.  Possibly  also  what  are  called 
negative  images  may  help  support  this  view.  If  you  look  out 
of  a  window,  in  the  sunlight,  and  then  shut  your  eyes,  you 
seem  to  see  the  window  still,  with  light  and  shade  reversed; 
the  sash  appears  brilliant,  and  the  panes  of  glass  appear  dark. 
White  and  black  may  be  opposites  in  their  retinal  effect,  in  the 
same  way  as  red  and  green.  The  details  of  these  inquiries 
belong  to  optics  and  physiology;  we  are  concerned  with  them 
now  only  in  their  relation  to  the  mind. 

This  theory  only  shows,  however,  how  the  ether-vibrations 
may  excite  corresponding  vibrations  in  the  brain,  and  does 
not  at  all  touch  the  mystery  of  how  the  sensation  is  produced; 
indeed  the  process  in  the  brain  is  probably  still  more,  compli- 
cated, for  the  ether- waves   do   not  seem  to  cause  nerve-  vibra- 


¥ 


Sense  of  Sight.  37 

tions  directly,  but  to  cause  a  chemical  change  in  the  retinal 
coating,  which  excites  in  turn  the  sensory  nerve  to  its  own 
peculiar  form  of  action. .  It  is  quite  possible,  however,  that 
the  action  in  the  nerve  itself  is  a  chemical  action  or  change. 

The  only  sensations  directly  occasioned  by  the  action  of 
light  on  the  retina  are  those  of  light  and  color,  including  the 
so-called  colors  of  white  and  black.  It  is  evident  that  this 
class  of  sensations  can  be  occasioned  by  objects  having  no 
apparent  size.  A  fixed  star  has  no  disc;  and  a  light  may  be 
seen  as  red,  white,  or  green,  and  yet  be  so  distant  as  to  be  a 
mere  point  in  the  field  of  view.  In  such  a  case  there  is  a  sen- 
sation of  direction  involved,  which  is  entirely  separate  from 
the  sensation  of  light  or  color,  and  which  is  different  for  each 
part  of  the  field  of  vision,  because  rays  of  light  from  each 
part  fall  on  a  particular  part  of  the  retina.  There  is  also  an 
automatic  tendency  of  the  eye  to  revolve,  in  such  a  case,  un- 
til the  sensitive  spot  is  brought  into  line  with  the  object,  and  it 
is  from  this,  as  we  shall  see,  that  our  knowledge  of  direc- 
tion,  and  hence  of  form,  is  chiefly  derived. 

Such  a  sensation  does  not  give  any  knowledge  of  the  ex- 
ternal world;  it  might  be  merely  a  subjective  sensation.  We 
know  that  subjective  sensations  of  light  can  be  occasioned  by 
pressure  on  the  eyeball,  by  a  blow  on  the  head,  or  by  a  cur- 
rent of  electricity,  and  that  these  have  direction.  When  you 
shut  your  eyes  and  press  a  finger  on  the  side  of  one  eyeball, 
the  resulting  sensation  of  light  appears  to  affect  the  opposite 
side  of  the  retina,  and  a  constant  relation  may  be  traced  be- 
tween the  directions  of  the  two. 

Now  suppose  the  object  to  be  a  colored  surface,  and  we 
have  a  plurality  of  indications  of  direction  at  the  same  time. 
If  the  object  fills  the  whole  field  of  vision,  we  have  all  the 
possible  points  of  direction  at  once,  and  this,  gives  us  a  per- 
ception of  color  without  limits;  for  in  such  a  case  a  limit  of 


38  The  Intellect. 

direction  could  only  be  found  by  turning  the  head  or  rotating 
the  eyeball,  which  is  not  the  present  supposition.  It  is  a  mat- 
ter of  dispute  whether  in  such  a  case  there  would  be  any  per- 
ception of  colored  extension  external  to  us. 

We  hold  that  there  is  no  such  perception  until  voluntary  motion 
of  the  receiving  organ  is  added  to  mere  receptive  sensation,  and 
that  this  is  proved  by  the  experience  of  persons  born  with  cataract 
of  both  eyes  and  afterward  cured.  Such  persons,  those  of  them 
at  least  whose  blindness  had  been  most  complete,  on  looking 
out  of  a  window,  for  instance,  for  the  first  time,  could  see 
nothing  but  blotches  of  color,  which  seemed  to  be  in  contact 
with  their  eyes.  The  point,  however,  is  not  one  of  importance, 
for  the  following  reason.  Even  though  we  do  have  a  percep- 
tion of  something  outside  of  us,  it  is  not  knowledge  'of  a  defi- 
nite thing,  not  any  true  knowledge  of  the  external  wTorld  as  it 
really  is,  for  its  real  existence  is  definitely  extended  in  space 
of  three  dimensions. 

But  suppose  the  field  of  vision  to  be  divided  between  two 
colors.  There  would  then  be  discriminative  sensations  of 
color,  and  the  points  of  direction  would  give  us  a  knowledge 
of  whether  each  was  on  the  right  or  left,  above  or  below.  But 
still  the  sensations  arising  would  be  mere  "  blotches  of  color 
in  contact  with  the  eye."  Indeed,  this  is  exactly  the  experi- 
ence of  the  blind-born  persons  referred  to;  they  did  not  per- 
ceive the  boundary  lines  between  the  colors,  as  extended  and 
external,  any  more  than  the  blotches  of  color  themselves;  we 
have  seen  that  sensations  of  direction  may  be  subjective,  as 
well  as  those  of  light. 

Take  now  the  case  of  a  colored  surface  of  definite  extent; 
the  directions  of  the  angles  or  of  many  points  in  the  boundary 
line,  give  us  the  perception  of  form  or  of  extended  figure. 
But  this  perception  is  obtained  through  the  muscular  sensation 
of  the  rotation  of  the  eyeball.     By  this  voluntary  motion  of 


Sense  of  Sight,  39 

the  organ,  making  the  circuit  of  the  object,  especially  going 
around  it  in  reverse  order,  and  leaping,  or  rather  measuring, 
across  from  one  point  to  another,  we  gain  a  definite  knowledge 
of  an  extended  reality  outside  of  us,  real  as  meeting  our  vol- 
untary activity,  and  remaining  while  we  study  it.  The  fact 
also  that  impressions  on  the  retina  are  not  strictly  instantane- 
ous, but  have  a  duration  of  about  one-eighth  of  a  second,  is 
of  assistance  in  enabling  us  to  perceive  the  whole  of  a  line, 
or  more  than  one  angle,  at  a  time;  since  the  impression  of 
one  part  remains  until  the  other  is  reached.  (Bain,  The 
Senses  and  the  Intellect,  236.) 

Without  this  muscular  feeling  of  voluntary  activity,  in  the 
rotation  of  the  eyes,  or  something  equivalent,  such  as  move- 
ments of  the  head  and  body,  we  cannot  obtain  through  vision 
any  true  knowledge  of  the  external  world.  This  point  is 
sometimes  disputed;  but,  even  if  we  yield  it,  and  admit  that 
the  external  world  wrould  be  perceived  in  motionless  vision, 
the  fact  remains,  that  it  is  not  the  external  world  in  its  full 
reality,  but  only  colored  surface,  which  is  perceived,  or  ex- 
istence in  space  of  two  ^dimensions,  not  of  three.  The  fol- 
lowing considerations,  however,  are  probably  sufficient  to  es- 
tablish our  view,  that  form  is  not  perceived  through  simple 
sensations  of  light  and  color. 

1.  What  is  difference  of  direction?  When  the  extreme 
points  of  an  object  send  to  the  eye  rays  of  light  which  differ 
in  direction  by  a  certain  amount,  what  relation  does  that  ex- 
press ?  Merely  that  the  eye  would  have  to  be  rotated  through 
that  number  of  degrees  to  bring  both  successively  to  the  same 
spot  of  the  retina.  There  is  a  natural  tendency  to  direct  the 
sensitive  spot  of  the  retina  to  the  first  point,  and  then  to  the 
one  which  is  to  be  compared  with  it,  of  course  by  rotating  the 
eyeball.  This  rotation,  even  when  not  actually  performed,  seems 
to  be  the  measure  of  difference  of  direction,  and  so  of  size, 
and  hence  of  figure. 


40  The  Intellect. 

2.  Although  the  outside  of  the  retina  is  very  sensitive  to 
light,  so  that  we  can  see  a  faint  star  best  by  turning  the 
head  to  one  side,  yet  the  accurate  discrimination  of  form 
is  confined  to  a  small  area,  and  is  vastly  more  perfect  in  the 
sensitive  spot;  so  that  for  clear,  distinct  vision  the  sensitive 
spot  must  be  turned  successively  toward  all  the  parts  of  an 
object,  or  else  the  object  must  be  small  enough  for  its  image 
to  fall  entirely  within  that  spot. 

3.  In  the  case  of  small  objects,  all  the  rays  of  which  fall 
upon  the  sensitive  spot  at  once,  we  may  often  by  close  atten- 
tion, detect  a  motion  of  the  eye  around  or  across  the  object, 
where  it  has  been  unsuspected  before.  It  is  quite  probable 
that  when  we  see  a  small  object  for  the  first  time,  as  in  learn- 
ing the  alphabet,  we  study  it,  feel  around  it  with  the  eye,  a 
process  which  is  unnecessary  afterwards,  when  it  has  become 
thoroughly  known. 

"  Our  notions  of  form  are  manifestly  obtained  by  working 
on  the  large  scale,  or  by  the  survey  of  objects  of  such  mag- 
nitude as  to  demand  the  sweep  of  the  eye  in  order  to  compre- 
hend them.  We  lay  the  foundations  of  our  knowledge  of  vis- 
ible outline  in  circumstances  where  the  eye  must  be  active  and 
must  mix  its  own  activity  with  the  retinal  feelings.  The  visual 
idea  of  a  circle  is  first  gained  by  moving  the  eye  around  some 
circular  object  of  considerable  size.  Having  done  this  we 
transfer  the  fact  of  motion  to  similar  circles.  So  that  when 
we  look  at  a  little  round  body  we  are  already  pre-occupied 
with  the  double  nature  of  visible  form,  and  are  not  in  a  posi- 
tion to  say  how  we  should  regard  it  if  that  were  our  first  ex- 
perience of  a  circle."  (Bain,  The  Senses  etc.,  373.)  Chil- 
dren learning  their  letters  are  always  taught  with  large  letters. 
In  rapid  reading  it  is  certain  that  we  do  not  wait  for  a  complete 
impression  or  image  of  each  letter. 

4.  Nearly  all    modern  authority  is  on  this  side  of  the  ques- 


Sense  of  Sight.  41 

tion.  We  have  already  quoted  Professor  Bain.  Many  writers 
deny  that  we  perceive  the  external  world  at  all  through  the 
senses,  but  declare  that  our  knowledge  of  it  is  entirely  a  mat- 
ter of  inference.  (Dr.  T.  Brown.)  Others  hold  that  it  is 
only  through  the  sensation  of  resistance  to  muscular  exertion 
that  we  gain  this  knowledge.  (Pres.  Mark  Hopkins.)  But 
we  hold  that  when  a  visible  surface  has  an  outline  which  we 
follow  by  muscular  movements  of  the  eye,  and  then  follow  in 
reverse  order,  while  the  object  remains  the  same,  it  quite  Us 
really  resists  our  activity,  and  is  quite  as  really  demonstrated 
to  be  real  being  thereby,  as  though  we  took  it  in  our  hands 
and  found  all  its  angles  and  edges  with  our  fingers.  Of  course, 
however,  vision  gives  us  in  this  way  but  two  dimensions  of 
space,  not  solid  matter  in  its  full  reality. 

The  following  observations  upon  persons  cured  of  con- 
genital cataract  of  both  eyes,  are  of  general  interest  and  not 
without  bearing  upon  this  question  also,  as  showing  that  these 
patients  can  at  first  distinguish  nothing  but  color  and  direc- 
tion. In  the  celebrated  case,  among  the  earliest  recorded,  of 
a  boy  twelve  years  of  age,  couched  by  Cheselden,  the  patient, 
being  taken  to  a  window  and  told  to  look  out,  saw  nothing 
but  great  blotches  of  color,  which  seemed  to  be  in  contact 
with  his  eyes.  This  apparent  contact  with  the  eyes,  common 
in  such  cases,  is  probably  due  to  the  habit  of  perceiving  by 
touch,  that  is,  bodily  contact,  necessarily  formed  by  blind  per- 
sons.    (Taine,  On   Intelligence,  306.) 

Caspar  Hausar,  who  was  kept  prisoner  in  a  dark  room  until 
his  seventeenth  year,  afterwards  said  that  when  he  was  liber- 
ated, on  looking  out  of  a  window  "  it  seemed  to  him  as  if 
there  were  a  shutter  quite  close  to  his  eyes,  covered  with  con- 
fusetl  colors  of  all  kinds,  in  which  he  could  recognize  or  dis- 
tinguish nothing  singly."     (Taine,  op.  cit.  308.) 

Wardrop's  patient,  a  lady  of  forty-five,  recognized  the  direc- 


42  The  Intellect. 

tion  of  a  passing  carriage,  and  asked  what  that  large  dark  ob- 
ject was.  Cheselden's  patient  was  tfnable  for  some  time  to 
distinguish  the  cat  from  the  dog,  until  one  day  taking  her  up 
he  felt  her  all  over,  saying,  "  so  puss,  I  shall  know  you  another 
time."  Home's  second  patient,  being  shown  a  square  card 
could  not  at  first  distinguish  it  from  a  circle;  but  after  studying 
it  for  some  time,  not  being  allowed  to  touch  it,  said  he  had 
found  a  corner,  and  then  readily  found  the  other  corners.  In 
a*  case  witnessed  by  Dr.  Carpenter,  the  patient,  a  boy  of  nine 
years,  could  recognize  the  direction  of  a  lighted  candle  at 
once. 

It  should  be  noticed  that  most  sufferers  from  cataract  are 
hot  entirely  deprived  of  sensations  of  light,  but  can  dis- 
tinguish day  from  night,  or  even  a  window  from  a  blank  wall. 
The  eye  is  perfect  but  the  light  cannot  reach  it,  except  very 
faintly.  This  limited  sensitivity  to  light  strongly  resembles 
that  of  the  lowest  animals  which  have  any  such  capacity.  We 
have  seen  that  the  oyster  shuts  its  shell  when  a  shadow  falls 
upon  its  ocelli.  "The  Hydra  habitually  shuns  the  light, — 
chooses  the  dark  side  of  the  vessel  in  which  it  is  placed." 
"  The  rudimentary  eye,  consisting,  as  in  a  Planaria,  of  some 
pigment  grains,  may  be  considered  as  simply  a  part  of  the  sur- 
face^more  irritable  by  light  than  the  rest.  Some  idea  of  the 
impression  it  is  fitted  to  receive  may  be  formed  by  turning  our 
closed  eyes  toward  the  light,  and  passing  the  hand  backwards 
and  forwards  before   them."     (Herbert  Spencer,  Psychology, 

I,  3IO>  3T4-) 

Why  are  not  objects  seen  inverted,  since  the  image  on  the 
retina  is  inverted  ?  The  inversion  of  the  image  is  a  conse- 
quence of  the  mechanical  structure  of  the  eye.  The  light 
from  the  upper  part  of  the  object  must  fall  on  the  lower  part 
of  the  retina,  because  the  center  about  which  the  eyeball  re- 
volves lies  between  the  pupil  and  the  retina.     As  the  object 


Sense  of  Sight.  43 

goes  up  the  image  goes  down.  The  rays  of  light  necessarily 
cross  each  other  in  the  eye.  "  It  is  therefore  a  prejudice  to 
hold  that  vision  by  an  inverted  image  is  a  mystery,  while  erect 
vision  would  be  natural.  Like  every  geometrical  property  of 
space,  this  is  entirely  lost  in  the  transfer  to  consciousness." 
(Lotze,  Dictate,  Psychologie,  §36.) 

The  perception  of  direction  is  an  interpretation  of  signs  by 
the  mind;  direction  is  a  relation,  not  a  concrete  thing  like 
light,  or  like  a  stick  which  can  be  touched,  and  it  is  a  combi- 
nation of  directions  which  gives  lis  perception  of  form.  To 
see  the  upper  part  of  an  object  the  eye  has  to  be  turned  up- 
ward, which  gives  us  an  impression  of  height,  or  of  being 
above,  although  the  image  of  this  part  of  the  object  goes  to 
the  lower  part  of  the  retina.  The  mind  does  not  see  the  im- 
age on  the  retina,  it  sees  the  distant  object  by  means  of  it,  and 
by  means  of  the  muscular  sensations  of  moving  the  eyeball 
from  one  position  to  another,  which  sensations  are  just  as  real 
as  the  image  on  the  retina.  The  image  on  the  retina  is  only 
known  through  the  sciences  of  physiology  and  optics,  not  at 
all  by  sensation. 

The  rays  of  light  coming  from  various  directions  excite 
sensations  which  are  interpreted  as  above  or  below  according 
as  we  would  have  to  move  the  eye  up  or  down  to  direct  the 
axis  of  the  eye  upon  the  object,  to  "  bring  it  to  bear  "  upon  the 
object.  An  absolute  standard  of  direction  is  afforded  us  by 
the  action  of  gravity;  the  direction  in  which  things  fall  is  called 
"  down,"  and  the  opposite  is  called  "  up." 

We  have  said  that  there  is  some  dispute  as  to  whether  vision 
alone  can  give  the  perception  of  an  external  world  as  ex- 
tended in  two  dimensions.  As  to  the  third  dimension,  in- 
volved in  distance  and  solidity,  there  is  practically  no  dispute. 
These  are  acquired  perceptions,  in  which,  however,  the  prin- 
ciple of  binocular  vision  is  of  great  importance,  but  much  is 


44  The  Intellect. 

also  due  to  associations  of  the  sense  of  touch,  and  accu- 
mulated experience. 

The  eye  as  an  optical  instrument  is  capable  of  being  ad- 
justed, to  a  certain  extent,  for  various  distances.  For  very 
near  objects  a  change  in  the  shape  of  the  lens,  which  becomes 
more  convex  to  the  extent  of  one  forty-eighth  of  an  inch,  en- 
ables us  to  see  minute  objects  more  clearly,  producing  a  some- 
what microscopic  effect.  This  change  produces  a  feeling  of 
strain  and  fatigue,  and  is  usually  said  to  be  voluntary.  For 
objects  somewhat  further  away  there  is  a  rotation  of  the  eyes, 
converging  their  axes,  thus  increasing  the  visual  angle,  and 
giving  us  clearness  and  distance  at  once,  enabling  us  to  judge 
of  the  distance  of  objects  whose  size  is  known,  or  of  the  size 
of  those  whose  distance  is  known.  The  full  explanation  of 
these,  mechanical  adjustments  belongs  to  the  science  of  optics. 

The  perception  of  distance  is  entirely  acquired.  '•  The  very 
meaning  of  distance  is  such  as  cannot  be  taken  in  by  mere 
sight.  The  possibility  of  a  certain  amount  of  locomotion  is 
implied  in  the  very  idea  of  distance.  Distance  cannot  be  per- 
ceived by  the  eye,  because  the  idea  of  distance  by  its  very 
nature  implies  feelings  and  measurements  out  of  the  eye  and 
located  in  the  other  active  organs,  the  locomotive  and  other  mov- 
ing members."     (Bain,  The  Senses  and  the  Intellect,  366.) 

A  multitude  of  observations  confirm  this  theory  of  the  per- 
ception of  distance.  An  infant  reaches  out  its  hands,  evi- 
dently for  objects  at  some  distance,  and  only  slowly  learns 
what  is  and  what  is  not  within  its  reach.  In  the  case  of 
couching  for  cataract  witnessed  by  Dr.  Carpenter,  already  men- 
tioned, the  patient,  several  days  after  the  operation,  being  told 
to  take  hold  of  a  watch,  groped  for  it  like  an  infant.  War- 
drop's  patient,  after  three  months,  recognized  a  grass-plot  by 
its  greenness,  but  could  not  judge  of  its  distance,  and  put  out 
her  foot  to  see  if  it  was  close  by.  Yet  this  patient  was  forty- 
five  years  of  age,  and  had  never  been  quite  blind. 


Sense  of  Sight.  45 

In  all  such  recorded  cases  the  judgment  of  distance  has 
been  slowly  acquired,  and  the  same  process  may  be  observed 
in  children.  When  we  look  at  an  object  and  then  reach  out 
to  it  or  walk  to  it,  the  real  distance,  as  thus  experimentally 
learned,  becomes  associated  in  the  mind  with  the  proper  con- 
vergence of  the  axes  of  the  eyes,  with  distinctness  or  vague- 
ness of  outline,  with  brightness  or  dimness  of  color,  and  other 
signs  of  distance.  A  vast  number  of  such  experiences,  con- 
tinued through  years,  cultivate  the  judgment  of  distance  and 
make  one  skillful  at  estimating  it. 

But  the  errors  into  which  we  fall  show  that  the  whole  is  an 
acquired  art.  A  landsman  at  sea  cannot  judge  of  distance 
because  he  is  accustomed  to  rely  on  intervening  objects. 
The  stranger  in  Colorado  judges  mountains  at  a  great 
distance  to  be  hills  near  by,  owing  to  the  unaccustomed 
clearness  of  the  atmosphere.  The  moon  appears  larger  and 
nearer  in  the  horizon  than  when  in  the  zenith.     Etc. 

Some  of  the  lower  animals  have  a  certain  amount  of  in- 
stinctive judgment  of  distance  which  appears  to  be  automatic. 
A  chicken,  for  example,  will  dart  at  and  pick  up  food  when 
hardly  out  of  his  shell.  But  it  should  be  noticed,  what  is 
generally  overlooked,  that  this  action  of  the  chicken  is  not 
like  what  we  call  judgment  of  distance  in  a  grown-up  person. 

The  chicken's  object  is  very  near,  and  the  only  adjustment 
necessary  to  enable  him  to  strike  it  is  a  convergence  of 
the  axes  of  the  eyes.  It  is  more  like  threading  a  needle 
than  judging  of  a  mountain.  And  this  is  about  all  the  knowl- 
edge of  distance  which  a  chicken  ever  acquires.  Even  when 
mature,  objects  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  are  for  him  non- 
existent. The  intellectual  judgment  and  comparison  of  dis- 
tance is  a  different  thing  from  the  automatic  convergence  of 
the  eyes  at  an  object  a  few  inches  away,  and  even  though  the 
latter  existed  in  human  infants  it  would  not  prove  the  existence 
of  the  former,  t  4 


46  -  The  Intellect. 

So  far  as  distance,  as  an  abstraction,  comes  under  the  idea . 
of  space,  it  will  be  discussed  hereafter. 

The  perception  of  solidity  -is  similar  to  that  of  distance, 
only  the  assisting  sensations  are  those  of  touch.  The  signs  of 
solidity,  namely,  shadow,  foreshortening,  and  perspective,  are 
a  kind  of  language,  which  we  learn  and  interpret.  A  sphere 
appears,  to  vision  alone,  just  like  a  circle,  but  after  handling 
and  seeing  spheres  we  come  to  join  the  shading  with  spherical 
solidity,  and  imagine  that  we  see  the  latter  directly. 

The  perception  of  solidity  is  also  greatly  assisted  by  what  is 
called  binocular  vision.  Since  the  two  eyes  are  placed  some 
three  inches  apart,  each  one  receives,  if  the  object  is  not  too 
distant,  an  image  of  a  slightly  different  portion  of  the  object, 
and  thus  the  combination  of  the  two  images  gives  aid  to  the 
perception  of  solidity.  The  stereoscope  is  an  instrument  de- 
vised by  Wheatstone  to  take  advantage  of  this  principle.  It* 
is  held  by  the  best  authorities,  however,  that  the  mode  in 
which  it  operates  is  that  one  eye  receives  the  principal  impres- 
sion and  the  other  supplies  those  additional  particular  sensa- 
tions which  it  has  received  more  than  or  apart  from  the  first. 
(Le  Conte,  Sight.)  It  is  well  known  that  nearly  every  person 
has  one  eye  very  much  stronger  than  the  other,  and  habitually 
uses  that  one,  by  itself,  far  more  than  he  is  aware  of. 

The  theory  that  the  perception  of  solidity  is  entirely  intel- 
lectual is  confirmed,  as  in  the  case  of  distance,  by  numerous 
observations  and  experiments.  Cheselden's  patient,  "  for  some 
time  after  distinct  vision  had  been  attained,  saw  everything 
flat,  as  in  a  picture."  (Carpenter,  Mental  Physiology,  188.) 
Wardrop's  patient  could  distinguish  an  orange  on  the  mantle- 
piece,  but  could  form  no  notion  of  what  it  was.  "  It  has  long 
been  known,"  says  Carpenter,  (op.  cit.  195.)  "that  when  a  seal 
is  looked  at  through  a  microscope,  it  will  appear  sometimes 
projecting  like  a  cameo,  sometimes  excavated  as  an  intaglio," 


Sense  of  Sight.  47 

a  phenomenon  which  does  not  occur  with  the  binocular  micro- 
scope. 

Wheatstone  has  devised  an  instrument  called  the  pseudo- 
scope,  which  effects  a  "  conversion  of  relief,"  making,  for  ex- 
ample, the  outside  of  a  basin  look  like  the  inside.  "  But 
this  '  conversion  of  relief,'  is  generally  resisted,  for  a  time  at 
least,  by  the  preconception  of  the  actual  form  which  is  based 
on  actual  experience;  and  it  only  takes  place  immediately,  in 
cases  in  which  the  converted  form  is  as  familiar  to  the  mind  as 
the  actual  form."  Thus,  looking  at  the  inside  of  a  mask  with 
a  pseudoscope,  it  at  once  appears  to  be  the  outside  of  a  mask, 
especially  if  colored  like  the  outside;  but  looking  at  the  out- 
side of  a  mask  a  lengthened  gaze  is  required  to  make  it  look 
like  the  inside.  "  In  the  case  of  the  living  human  face,  how- 
ever, it  seems  that  no  protraction  of  the  pseudoscopic  gaze  is 
sufficient  to  bring  about  a  'conversion  of  relief,'"  the  associa- 
tions of  so  familiar  an  object  being  too  strong  to  be  overcome  by 
optical  expedients.      (Carpenter,  op.  cit.  191.) 

"The  whole  technical  power  of  painting,"  says  Ruskin, 
"  depends  on  our  recovery  of  what  may  be  called  the  inno- 
cence of  the  eye;  that  is  to  say,  of  a  sort  of  childish  percep- 
tion of  these  flat  stains  of  color  merely  as  such,  without  con- 
sciousness of  what  they  signify,  as  a  blind  man  would  see  them 
if  suddenly  gifted  with  sight."  (Elements  of  Drawing,  Quoted 
in  Porter,  155.) 

This  theory  of  the  indirect  perception  of  distance  and 
solidity  is  a  striking  instance  of  progress  in  psychology.  It 
was  demonstrated  by  Berkeley  in  1709  from  theoretical  con- 
siderations. The  defective  state  of  the  sciences  at  that  time, 
especially  ignorance  concerning  the  muscular  sensations,  made 
his  argument  less  satisfactory  and  checked  its  reception.  (Bain, 
Mental  Science,  189.)  In  some  points,  too,  his  form  of  the 
theory  has  been  abandoned;  for  example,  he  held  that  we  have 


48  The  Intellect. 

no  knowledge  of  extension  through  the  eye;  that  the  eye 
gives  color  only;  that  there  is  no  necessary  connection  be- 
tween visible  and  tangible  extension.  None  of  these  points 
are  now  held  to  be  a  part  of  the  true  theory. 

This  theory,  although  so  contrary  to  all  our  natural  unre- 
flecting beliefs  concerning  vision,  has  made  its  way,  in  spite  of 
all  difficulties,  because,  like  the  undulatory  theory  of  light,  it 
explains  every  new  case  which  arises  and  is  confirmed  by  all 
new  discoveries  in  the  sciences  of  optics,  physiology,  and 
psychology,  until  it  is  now  accepted  by  almost  every  person 
whose  opinion  is  of  any  value.  Some  able  men  have  recently, 
opposed  it,  as  Bailey  and  Abbot,  but  they  have  opposed  the 
theory  as  Berkeley  held  it,  not  as  improved  by  more  recent 
writers  in  the  light  of  modern  science. 

A  question  arises  in  connection  with  binocular  vision, — 
why  do  we  not  see  double,  since  we  use  two  eyes,  which  may, 
to  a  certain  extent,  act  separately  ?  The  following  considera- 
tions will  probably  remove  the  difficulty. 

i.  Form  anddistance  beinggiven  by  muscular  sensations  of  the 
eyes,  the  same  set  of  those  sensations  in  either  eye  produces  the 
same  image,  that  is,  locates  the  object  in  the  same  apparent  place, 
and  the  two  images  correspond  or  are  superimposed.  If  the  ad- 
justment of  these  muscles  be  altered,  by  pressinga  little  on  the  side 
of  one  eye  with  the  finger,  or  by  a  voluntary  effort,  we  do  see 
double.  (Drbal,  Empirische  Psychologie,  138.  Le  Conte, 
Sight.) 

2.  We  do  not,  as  above  said,  have  two  entirely  distinct 
images  which  are  confounded  or  mixed  or  superimposed, 
but  one  principal  image,  supplemented  in  some  particulars  by 
another.  If  the  two  images  were  superimposed  they  would 
not  correspond  exactly,  since  they  are  not  taken  from  the 
same  point  of  view.  The  effect  of  binocular  vision  depends 
on  this  very  fact,  that  the  images  are  not  exactly  alike;  that  is, 


Sense  of  Touch.  49 

our  vision  of  solid  objects  is  not  absolutely  single,  but  is,  to  a 
certain  extent,  and  in  a  certain  sense,  double,  but  is  interpreted 
by  the  mind  as  single.     (Bain,  Mental  Science,  192.) 

3.  The  perception  of  distance  and  solidity  is,  as  has  been 
said,  an  intellectual  phenomenon,  an  interpretation  of  signs. 
Hence  the  mind  incorporates  with  the  sensations  involved,  all 
the  knowledge  which  it  has  previously  gained  in  any  way,  and 
each  perception  of  this  kind  is  really  the  result  of  a  long 
course  of  training.  Hence,  even  if  we  do  see  double  at  first, 
the  eyes  and  the  mind  may  be  adjusted  to  see  single.  This  is 
proved  by  cases  in  which  persons  have  been  rendered  cross- 
eyed by  injury  to  the  head.  In  such  cases,  if  the  divergence  is 
not  too  great,  the  eyes  are  brought  into  harmony  again  by  one 
or  two  years'  practice,  new  associations  of  the  muscular  sensa- 
tions of  sight  being  established  in  that  time. 

'"  It  is  no  more  necessary  that  the  two  eyes  should  give  two 
separate  and  complete  pictures  to  the  mind,  than  that  the  two 
hands  embracing  the  same  ball  should  suggest  two  balls;  or 
that  the  thumb  and  finger  grasping  a  pen  should  suggest  two 
pens."     (Bain,  The  Senses  and  the  Intellect,  302.) 

SENSE    OF    TOUCH. 

In  one  meaning  of  the  term  Sense  of  Touch,  this  sense- is 
attached  to  the  whole  surface  of  the  body,  even -to  the  special 
organs  of  sense.  It  has  in  fact  been  called  "the  general 
sense,"  and  some  writers  have  even  attempted  to  show  that 
the  other  senses  are  all  developments  and  refinements  of  the 
sense  of  touch.  (Herbert  Spencer,  Psychology,  I,  400.)  In 
the  tips  of  the  fingers  and  tongue  the  sense  of  touch  has  a 
remarkable  development,  and  the  nerves  of  touch  are  there  so 
specially  sensitive  as  to  constitute  them,  it  might  almost  be 
said,  a  special  organ  of  sense. 

In  other  wrords  the  entire  skin,  is  capable  of  receiving  im- 


50  The  Intellect. 

pressions  of  pressure,  pain,  and  temperature,  but  the  tips  of 
the  fingers  and  tongue  are  usually  employed  in  voluntary  seek- 
ing for  information  of  the  external  world. 

Some  sensations  which  are  probably  occasioned  through  the 
same  nerves  with  those  of  touch  are  not  of  importance  for 
this  part  of  psychology,  and  are  better  classed  under  organic 
sensations;  they  are  sensations  of  heat  and  cold,  pain  and 
pleasure,  tickling,  etc. 

Experiments  have  been  made  by  Weber  to  .determine  the 
comparative  discriminative  power  of  touch  in  different  parts 
of  the  body.  The  blunted  points  of  a  pair  of  compasses  are 
placed  at  different  distances  apart  on  different  parts  of  the 
body;  when  they  are  too  close  together  they  are  perceived  as 
one,  not  as  two.  The  smallest  distance  at  which  they  can  be 
distinguished  as  two  varies  from  one  thirty-sixth  of  an  inch  at 
the  tip  of  the  tongue,  to  about  one  tenth  at  the  tips  of  the 
fingers,  about  one  fifth  on  the  lips,  and  three  inches  on  the 
back.  It  is  probable  that  in  order  to  produce  a  double  sen- 
sation the  points  must  be  in  areas  supplied  by  different  and 
distinct  nerve-branches,  and  separated  by  at  least  one  such 
area.  Thus  each  such  area  would  correspond  to  a  separate 
organ  of  sense,  supplied  by  a  special  nerve,  branching  to  every 
part  of  the  area;  for  there  is  no  part  of  the  skin  where  a  pin- 
point can  be  set  down  without  causing  pain. 

Under  the  perception  of  points  should  be  classed  percep- 
tions of  roughness  or  smoothness.  The  face  of  a  brush,  for 
example,  gives  a  plurality  of  points,  and  we  can  judge  to  some 
extent  whether  they  are  scattered  or  close. 

Light  pressure  is  usually  classed  under  touch,  but  when 
pressure  is  heavier  the  muscular  feeling  of  resistance  becomes 
involved,  and  the  two  cannot  be  distinguished.  By  support- 
ing the  hand,  as  on  a  table,  muscular  sensation  can  be  elimi- 
nated as  far  as  possible,  and  it  is  then  found  that  the  tips  of 


Sense  of  Touch.  51 

the  fingers  can  distinguish  between  twenty  ounces  and  nine- 
teen and  a  half  ounces. 

By  moving  the  hand  along  the  surface  or  edge  of  an  object, 
we  get  a  perception  of  continuance  of  the  sensation,  com- 
bined with  the  muscular  feeling  of  motion.  This  kind  of  per- 
ception is  greatly  assisted  by  the  fact  that  we  have  two  hands 
and  several  fingers,  giving  an  effect  somewhat  like  that  of  two 
eyes  in  binocular  vision. 

In  this  way  we  gain  a  knowledge  of  solidity,  of  the  external 
world  as  having  three  dimensions,  assisting  the  sense  of  sight 
and  furnishing  associations  which  go  to  form  the  acquired  per- 
ceptions of  sight.  The  similarity  of  compound  touch  to  bi- 
nocular vision  is  curiously  illustrated  by  an  experiment  resem- 
bling that  in  which  the  eyes  are  made  to  see  double  by  a 
slight  pressure  on  one  of  them.  If  a  boy's  marble  be  pressed 
by  the  forefinger  and  at  the  same  time  by  the  second  finger, 
so  crossed  over  as  to  bring  the  inside  edges  of  both  fingers 
against  the  marble,  it  will  seem  to  be  two  separate  marbles. 

When  our  own  body  is  the  object  of  touch,  the  double 
sensations,  active  and  passive,  especially  when  combined  with 
vision,  give  perceptions  of  the  parts  of  the  body  as  in  a  pe- 
culiarly close  relation  with  the  perceiving  subject.  In  this 
way,  and  not  by  direct  consciousness,  we  get  a  knowledge  of 
the  body  as  extended  and  having  solidity,  and  come  even  to 
regard  it  as  a  part  of  the  external  world,  distinct  from  the  sub- 
ject or  ego. 

The  sense  of  touch  is  capable  of  very  wonderful  cultiva- 
tion, especially  where  exclusive  attention  is  directed  to  it,  as  in 
the  case  of  blind  persons.  "  There  is  nothing  essential  to 
the  highest  intellectual  processes  of  science  and  thought,  that 
may  not  be  attained  in  the  absence  of  sight."     (Bain.) 


52  The  Intellect. 

muscular  sensation. 

The  muscles  are  all  supplied  with  nerves  of  sensation  as 
well  as  motion,  and  these  convey  a  variety  of  sensations,  some 
of  which  are  organic,  as  fatigue,  strain,  pain,  pleasure  of  mo- 
tion, passive  feeling  of  support,  cramp,  etc.,  and  are  not  of 
psychological  importance. 

The  intellectual  or  discriminative  sensations  of  muscle  are 
of  two  kinds,  that  of  resistance  and  that  of  motion  or  changed 
place.  Those  of  the  first  kind  are  always  combined  with 
sensations  of  touch,  since  pressure  cannot  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  the  muscles  without  first  affecting  the  skin.  In  the  case 
of  resistance,  as  in  supporting  a  weight  in  the  unsupported 
hand,  it  is  said  that  an  ordinary  person  can  distinguish  be- 
tween thirty-nine  and  forty  ounces.  (Bain.)  But  the  muscles 
soon  become  tired  and  then  lose  their  discriminative  sensi- 
tiveness, which  is  absorbed  in  the  sensation  of  strain  and  pain- 
ful fatigue. 

The  sensation  of  resistance,  as  when  we  grasp  anything 
firmly  in  the  hand,  gives  vividness  to  our  knowledge  of  exter- 
nal reality  in  connection  with  touch.  Indeed,  it  is  held  by 
some  that  here  alone  do  we  get  a  knowledge  of  the  external 
world  as  extended  and  really  existing.  (Hopkins,  Outline 
Study  of  Man.) 

We  have  already  stated  our  own  view,  that  we  know  real  be- 
ing external  to  us  whenever  we  exercise  toward  it  a  voluntary 
activity  of  the  apparatus  "of  perception,  which  we  cannot  do 
in  taste,  smell,  hearing,  or  simple  vision,  but  can  do  in  com- 
pound vision,  and  still  more  perfectly  in  touch.  Muscular 
sensations  of  motion  and  resistance  imply,  we  hold,  more  than 
being  and  space,  namely  causation,  a  subject  which  will  arise 
for  discussion  later  on.  Even  Bain  says,  "  the  sense  of  re- 
sistance is  primarily  the  feeling  of  expended  energy."     (The 


Muscular  Sensation. 

Senses  and  the  Intellect,  178.)  "There  is  no  feeling  of  our 
nature  of  more  importance  to  us  than  that  of  resistance. 
Everything  we  touch,  at  the  same  time  resists,  and  everything 
we  hear,  see,  taste,  or  smell,  suggests  something  that  resists. 
It  is  through  the  medium  of  resistance  that  every  act  by  which 
we  subject  to  our  use  the  objects  and  laws 'of  nature  is  per- 
formed."    (James  Mill.) 

In  moving  a  limb,  as  in  the  sweep  of  the  arm  through  space, 
we  have  a  series  of  sensations  corresponding  to  the  motion, 
but  we  need  the  help  of  sight,  in  general,  to  make  the  muscu- 
lar combinations  accurate.  Extend  the  arms,  then  shut  the 
eyes,  and  try  to  bring  the  two  forefingers  together;  they  will 
not,  usually,  meet  exactly.  Yet  habitual  actions  can  be  per. 
formed  with  surprising  accuracy  even  in  the  dark;  fix  your  eye 
on  the  door  knob  in  a  familiar  room,  then  let  some  one  ex- 
tinguish the  light,  and  try  to  walk  to  the  door  and  touch  the 
knob.  Very  often  the  knob  is  touched  with  perfect  correct- 
ness. In  throwing  a  missile  the  co-ordination  of  motions, 
guided  by  sight,  but  trained  by  previous  experience,  is  wonder- 
fully accurate. 

A  curious  combination  of  tactual  and  muscular  sensations 
occurs  when  we  take  a  stick  in  the  hand  and  "  feel  for  "  some- 
thing with  it,  especially  if  sensations  of  sight  be  somehow 
eliminated.  Besides  the  sensation  of  resistance  directly  given 
by  the  stick  in  the  hand,  we  have  the  muscular  sensations  of 
movement,  and  also  the  resistance  which  the  stick  meets  with 
at  its  other  end  and  which  is  transmitted  to  the  hand;  we  thus 
seem  #  feel  the  object  directly. 

Similarly  in  using  tools,  we  seem  to  feel  the  tool,  often,  as  a 
continuation  of  our  muscular  and  sensitive  system.  The 
carpenter  can  tell  by  the  feeling  whether  his  plane  is  cutting 
well  or  ill,  though  the  real  variations  of  muscular  sensation 
must  be  almost  infinitesimal.     Lotze  has  elaborated  this  subject, 


54  The  Intellect. 

attributing  to  this  peculiar  "  projection  of  sensations  "  all  skill 
in  the  use  of  instruments  and  hence  all  industrial  progress. 
(Microkosmus  II,  195.     Drbal.) 

A  similar  class  of  sensations  is  not  uncommon.  Thus,  if 
a  fly  walks  on  the  ends  of  our  hair,  when  it  is  short,  we  seem 
to  feel  him  at  that  place,  not  in  the  skin,  where  the  nerves 
affected  really  are.  .  Or,  if  something  strikes  one  of  our  teeth, 
we  seem  to  feel  the  blow  in  the  enamel  or  bone,  which  has  no 
nerves,  not  in  the  gum,  where  the  nerves  really  are.  A  cat's 
whiskers  seem  to  be  capable  of  similar  discrimination.  The 
antennas  of  insects  probably  act  in  the  same  way.  But  this 
so-called  "  projection  of  sensation  "  seems  to  be  an  acquired 
perception,  similar  to  the  localization  of  sensation,  which  we 
shall  soon  refer  to.  It  is  probable  that  all  precise  localization 
is  acquired,  and  if  so,  it  cannot  be  much  more  difficult  to  lo- 
calize a  sensation  in  the  hair,  or  the  teeth,  or  the  nails,  or  a 
stick  held  in  the  hand,  than  in  the  foot  or  the  hand. 

Muscular  sensations  have  a  tendency  to  become  joined  to- 
gether automatically  in  rythmical  series,  and  the  series  goes  on 
without  any  intervenation  of  the  will,  when  once  begun.  One 
learning  to  play  the  piano  strikes  each  key  by  a  separate  voli- 
tion, with  full  attention;  but  a  skillful  player,  playing  a  familiar 
piece  can  do  it  without  attention,  and  even  talk  about  some- 
thing else  all  the  while.  So  in  learning  to  walk,  the  child  has 
to  give  full  attention  to  each  step,  and  then  often  fails  to  get 
just  the  right  muscular  adjustment.  Later  in  life  the  move- 
ments of  walking  may  even  go  on  automatically  when  the  man, 
overcome  with  fatigue,  has  fallen  asleep.  9 


Localization.  55 

TOPICS   CONNECTED  WITH  SENSATION  AND 
PERCEPTION. 

I.     Localization. 

Many  of  our  sensations  are  instantly  referred  by  us  to  the 
part  of  the  body  in  which  the  originating  impulse  was  received. 
This  is  called  localization  of  sensations.  It  does  not  always 
occur.  When  the  attention  is  directed  to  the  interpretation 
of  the  sensation,  the  localizing  reference  is  absent.  When  we 
look  at  an  object,  we  do  not  think  of  the  eye,  we  are  not  con- 
scious of  the  eye  at  all.  But  if  the  light  becomes  so  strong 
as  to  cause  pain,  the  attention  is  drawn  to  the  organ,  and  we 
perceive  the  eye  as  affected  by  the  light.  So  in  hearing,  we 
do  not  think  of  the  ear  unless  the  sound  is  so  loud  or  so  harsh 
as  to  be  very  disagreeable,  in  which  case  .we  at  once  perceive 
the  ear  as  affected.  Sensations  of  touch,  pressure,  tempera- 
ture, and  resistance,  seem  always  to  be  accompanied  by  the 
localizing  sensation. 

Dr.  Carpenter  says  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  localization  is 
11  primary  or  secondary;  a  congenital  intuition  or  an  acquired 
instinct."  (Mental  Physiology,  149.)  The  weight  of  author- 
ity is  in  favor  of  calling  it  an  entirely  acquired  perception. 
On  this  theory  the  child  has  to  learn  to  know  its  own  body 
and  limbs,  and  to  recognize  the  places  of  its  various  sensa- 
tions, and  does  this  by  the  combined  sensations  of  touch  and 
sight,  and  especially  that  peculiar  double  sensation  described 
above,  in  which  the  organism  is  both  active  and  passive  at 
the  same  time.  In  this  way,  it  is  said,  we  learn  to  know  the 
body  as  in  one  sense  belonging  to  the  external  world,  and  yet  in 
most  intimate  connection  with  the  soul.  The  following  con- 
siderations are  relied  upon  to  establish  this  view. 

1.  Even  adult  persons  often  find  the  localizing  power  defi- 


56  The  Intellect. 

cient.  One  cannot  always  tell  which  of  his  teeth  is  aching, 
until,  by  applying  the  tongue,  he  "  finds  out "  which  one  it  is; 
that  is,  acquires  the  localizing  perception. 

2.  Frequent  mistakes  are  made  in  localizing  sensations. 
We  refer  sensations  to  insensible  parts,  the  hair,  the  teeth,  even 
a  stick,  as  described  above.  After  the  amputation  of  a  limb 
the  patient  continues  to  have  sensations  of  pain,  tickling, 
pricking,  etc.,  which  he  refers  to  the  part  which  has  been  am- 
putated. In  many  cases  these  disappear  after  a  few  years, 
when  new  associations  have  been  established.  Organic  feel- 
ings are  often  misleading  as  to  the  real  seat  of  disease  or  in- 
jury. Disease  of  the  heart  causes  pains  in  the  arms.  Acid  in 
the  stomach  causes  a  pain  over  the  eyes.  The  first  warning 
of  hip-disease  is  sometimes  a  pain  in  the  knee. 

3.  Observations  on  infants  are  held  to  confirm  this  view. 
It  is  a  long  time  before  they  can  indicate  the  seat  of  a  pain. 
In  the  pain  of  colic  they  draw  up  the  feet  in  a  peculiar  manner, 
it  is  true,  but  this  may  be  a  spasm  caused  by  the  great  inten- 
sity of  the  pain,  not  a  sign  of  its  location. 

On  the  other  side  the  following  considerations  may  be  men- 
tioned. 

1.  Many  of  those  who  hold  localization  to  be  entirely  ac- 
quired are  idealists,  and  hold  that  all  sensations  are  subjective, 
and  that  the  mind  projects  its  own  sensations  into  space,  which 
is  also  its  own  creation.  They  are  thus  obliged  to  account 
for  the  localization  of  sensations  in  the  same  way.  This 
meets  to  a  great  extent  the  argument  from  authority. 

2.  After  amputation  of  a  limb  the  patient  has  sensations 
apparently  in  the  severed  limb,  in  many  cases  through  the  rest 
of  his  life,  though  prolonged  for  many  years.  This  is  held 
to  indicate  an  inherent,  specific,  capability  in  the  nerve,  as  in 
the  sensory  nerve,  to  occasion  only  one  sensation,  no  matter 
what  the  stimulus  may  be.     Such  a  capability  would  give  dim 


Localization.  57 

and  vague  experiences  at  the  beginning  of  life,  when  all  the 
powers  are  undeveloped  and  uncertain,  but  would  develop  with 
the  gradual  perfection  of  the  organism. 

3.  Localization  certainly  becomes  automatic,  and  probably 
is  so  from  the  first,  so  far  as  it  exists.  According  to  Dr.  Car- 
penter, also,  it  is  a  reflex  activity. 

4.  The  muscular  sense  seems  to  be  in  a  certain  way  a  local- 
izing sense  in  itself,,  and  is  possibly  the  basis  on  which  com- 
plete localization  is  built  up.  It  seems  impossible  to  believe 
that  the  muscular  sensations  by  which,  for  example,  we  know 
the  movement  and  position  of  the  arm,  give  us  no  knowledge 
in  themselves,  but  only  through  association. 

The  true  state  of  the  case  seems  to  us  well  expressed  by  Presi- 
dent Porter.  "  All  sensations  are  attended  with  a  more  or  less 
distinct  and  definite  relation  of  place  in  the  sensorium.  This  re- 
lation of  place  is  at  first  very  indefinitely  apprehended;  indeed, it 
may  not  be  attendee!  to  at  all;  but  there  must  be  furnished,  in 
the  original  experiences  of  the  soul,  the  means  of  discerning 
such  a  relation,  provided  the  attention  is  directed  to  the  sen- 
sation." (Human  Intellect,  130.)  We  conclude,  then,  that 
localization  is  a  power  which  can  be  largely  improved  and  de- 
veloped by  experience  and  association,  but  becomes  or  is  au- 
tomatic, and  is  founded  in  original  endowment,  the  structure 
of  the  nervous  system. 

Some  writers  describe  a  kind  of  extension  of  localization, 
under  the  name  of  projection  of  sensations,  affirming  that 
when  we  look  at  an  object  we  are  only  referring  our  subjective 
sensations  to  a  certain  point  in  space,  and  thus  we  construct 
the  external  world  out  of  our  inner  consciousness.  (Drbal, 
empirische  Psychologie,  155.)  This  is  true  only  in  hallucina- 
tions and  dreams.  M.  Taine,  indeed,  plainly  asserts  that  all 
our  knowledge  is  hallucination.  But  the  difference  between 
our  ordinary  life  and  a  dream  is  plain  to  right-thinking  men, 


53  The  Intellect. 

and  is  only  lost  sight  of  by  those  who  have  already  adopted 
the  presupposition  of  idealism.  The  only  phenomena  which 
can  properly  be  called  projection  of  sensations  have  been 
described  above  under  the  sense  of  touch. 

'  II.  Illusions  and  Hallucinations. 

Illusions  are  errors  in  the  perception  of  real  objects.  The 
senses  themselves,  in  their  normal  action,  do  not  mistake,  but 
the  errors  of  illusion  arise  from  a  wrong  interpretation  by  the 
mind,  when  some  unaccustomed  circumstance,  altering  the 
significance  of  the  usual  signs,  has  been  overlooked.  When  a 
man  seems  ten  feet  high  in  a  fog,  it  is  because  the  dimness  of 
outline  due  to  the  fog  is  associated  in  our  minds  with  distance, 
and  we  judge  him  to  be  farther  away  than  he  really  is. 

When  we  direct  our  eyes  upon  a  spot  in  the  window,  objects 
beyond  seem  double,  but  when  we  direct  our  attention  to  dis- 
tant objects,  the  spot  on  the  window  seems  double;  effects 
easily  explained  by  the  principle  of  binocular  vision.  When  a 
voice,  re-echoed  from  a  building  or  a  cliff,  seems  to  proceed 
from  thence,  though  the  speaker  is  in  the  opposite  direction, 
it  is  plain  that  the  sound-waves,  as  they  really  reach  us,  are 
rightly  judged  to  proceed  from  the  direction  of  the  echo. 
When  we  see  the  two  rails  of  a  railway  track  apparently  com- 
ing together  in  the  distance,  it  is  because  the  real  object  of 
vision  is  the  distance  between  the  rails,  and  this  object  neces- 
sarily subtends  a  smaller  angle  as  the  distance  increases.  When 
a  stick,  obliquely  inserted  in  the  water,  appears  bent,  it  is  be- 
cause the  mind  assumes  the  refraction  of  light  to  be  unchanged 
in  the  new  conditions.  When  the  full  moon  looks  larger 
near  the  horizon  than  in  the  zenith,  it  is  because  the  number 
of  intervening  objects  makes  us  judge  it  more  remote  than 
when  no  objects  are  between,  and  hence  larger.  When  a  stump 
seen  in  the  twilight,  seems  to  be  a  robber  with  a  gun,  it  is  be- 


Feeling  in  Sensation.  59 

cause  the  excited  imagination  is  prepared  to  construct  such  an 
object,  and*  the  slight  resemblances  reported  by  vision  are 
misinterpreted. 

Hallucinations  are  subjective  sensations,  caused  by  abnormal 
action  of  the  brain  or  mind.  A  blow  on  the  head  makes  one 
see  stars.  Pressure  on  the  eyeball  causes  a  flash  of  light  to 
appear.  Electric  currents  stimulate  several  of  the  senses  so  as 
to  cause  false  perceptions.  Dreams  will  be  spoken  of  under 
the  head  of  Imagination.  Visions,  ghosts,  and  phantasms  are 
not  very  uncommon.  The  case  of  Brutus  is  celebrated. 
Martin  Luther  is  said  to  have  seen  the  devil  frequently.  Pascal, 
having  nearly  fallen  into  the  river,  with  nerves  weakened  by 
asceticism,  saw  a  fiery  gulf  beside  him,  and  could  not  get  rid 
of  it.  Benvenuto  Cellini,  in  a  dark  prison,  thought  himself 
visited  by  the  holy  virgin  Mary. 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  case  is  that  of  Nicolai,  a  book- 
seller of  Berlin,  who  was  visited  by  many  of  these  dream-peo- 
ple. The  so-called  dreams  of  opium,  haschish,  and  other 
drugs,  seem  to  the  victim  as  real  as  actual  events.  The  delu- 
sions of  insane  persons  are  fundamentally  of  the  same  charac- 
ter, and  by  constant  repetition  and  brooding  upon  them  be- 
come "fixed  ideas,"  which  dominate  the  patient's  mental  life, 
and  impel  to  all  sorts  of  extraordinary  actions.  It  is  well 
known  that  nervous  children  sometimes  take  images  in  the 
mind  for  perceptions.     (Dr.  Clark,  Visions.) 

III.  Feeling  in  Sensation. 

A  curious  question  has  been  raised  how  far  sensation  is  ac- 
companied by  feeling.  This  question  is  somewhat  complicated 
by  the  various  meanings  in  which  the  words  feeling,  and  to 
feel,  are  used  in  English,  viz: — 

1.  Feeling  is  used  of  the  sense  of  touch;  we  feel  of  a  thing, 
and  say  it  feels  soft,  smooth,  hard;  or  we  feel  it  to  be  soft, 
rough,  sticky,  etc. 


60  The  Intellect. 

2.  Feeling  is  used  for  the  emotions,  including  pleasure,  pain, 
disgust,  interest,  gratitude,  and  all  the  sentiments,  or  finer  feel- 
ings. 

3.  For  all  the  sensations  and  emotions  together.  "  All  sen- 
sations are  feelings,  but  all  feelings  are  not  sensations.  Sensa- 
tions are  those  feelings  which  arise  immediately  and  solely 
from  a  state  of  the  bodily  organism."  (Fleming,  Vocabulary 
of  Philosophy.) 

4.  Professor  Bain  uses  feeling  to  include  most  of  those  sen- 
sations which  we  have  called  organic  and  muscular,  and  also 
the  emotions  proper.  Thus  he  says,  "  Feeling  includes  all  our 
pleasures  and  pains,  and  certain  modes  of  excitement,  or  of 
consciousness  simply,  that  are  neutral  or  indifferent  as  regards 
pleasure  and  pain.  The  pleasures  of  warmth,  food,  music; 
the  pains  of  fatigue,  poverty,  remorse;  the  excitement  of  hurry 
and  surprise;  the  supporting  of  a  light  weight,  the  touch  of  a 
table,  the  sound  of  a  dog  barking  in  the  distance,  are  feelings. 
The  two  leading  divisions  of  the  feelings  are  commonly  given 
as  sensations  and  emotions."     (Mental  Science,  2.) 

Evidently  he  does  not  here  intend  to  include  the  discrimina- 
tive feelings  of  the  special  senses.  But  the  distinction  is  not 
an  easy  one  to  carry  out.-  It  obliges  him  to  treat  of  feelings 
twice,  in  two  connections,  first  among  the  sensations,  and  then 
after  the  intellect,  as  emotions.  And  he  is  not  thoroughly  con- 
sistent in  applying  the  term.  Thus,  he  speaks  of  muscular 
feelings,  organic  feelings,  feelings  of  respiration,  of  heat  and 
cold,  hunger,  nausea,  and  disgust,  and  yet  calls  many  of  them 
sensations. 

5.  To  feel  is  used  in  the  meaning  of  to  believe.  We  say, 
"  I  feel  it  to  be  true,"  "  I  cannot  help  believing  it,  because  I 
feel  it  is  so."     This  is  a  popular,  colloquial  use. 

Some  authorities  teach  that  every  sensation  is  accompanied 
by  feelings  of  pleasure  or  pain,  or  rather   an  agreeable  or  dis- 


Feeling  in  Sensation.  6i 

agreeable  feeling.  (German  lust  and  un lust.)  According  to 
Lotze,  sensation  and  feeling,  though  different  in  nature  are 
always  conjoined,  yet  not  derived  from  one  another.  The 
relation  between  simultaneous  impressions  or  states  acts  as  an 
impulse  upon  the  soul,  and  arouses  a  new  activity,  the  soul  re" 
sponding  in  the  shape  of  feeling.  (Dictate,  Psychologie  §46.) 
Drbal,  following  Herbart,  says  that  all  feelings,  including  emo- 
tions, arise  from  the  conflict  and  hindrance,  or  co-incidence 
and  mutual  strengthening  (forderung")  of  ideas,  but  that  weak  or 
momentary  relations  of  ideas  do  not  produce  feeling,  and  are 
not  further  noticed  by  us.     (empirische  Psychologie,  200.) 

President  Porter  introduces  the  element  of  feeling  into  his 
very  definition  of  sensation,  which  he  calls  "the  subjective  ex- 
perience which  the  soul,  as  animating  an  extended  sensorium, 
has  of  its  own  states  as  pleasurable  or  painful."  (The  Human 
Intellect,  128.)  He  does  not  account  for  this  combination, 
nor  explain  the  origin  of  feeling  in  connection  with  sensation, 
nor  do  we  understand  that  he  niakes  any  use  of  it.  Writers  of 
the  sensational  or  of  the  Herbartian  school  can  make  great 
use  of  the  principle,  because  they  derive  all  the  emotions  from 
these  simple  feelings. 

Lotze  divides  feelings  into  sensuous,  esthetic,  and  moral. 
The  first  are  such  as  the  feelings  of  harmony  or  discord  of 
sounds  and  colors,  agreeable  and  disagreeable  sensations  of 
smell,  taste,  touch,  the  last  rising  at  one  extreme  into  pain;  these 
are  personal,  as  depending  on  each  one's  physical  organism. 
The  second  are  the  pleasures  and  pains  (rather  displeasures)  of 
taste,  aroused  by  beauty  and  ugliness,  etc.,  in  which  the  per- 
sonal element  is  wanting,  and  which  are  universal  in  their 
application,  since  all  men  may  derive  pleasure  from  the  same 
picture  or  statue.  The  third  is  moral  approbation  or  disap- 
probation. Professor  Bain,  as  we  have  seen,  gives  a  similar 
extent  to  the  term  feeling.  5 


62  The  Intellect. 

But  President  Porter  compares  the  pain  of  a  cut  or  blow 
with  the  pain  of  the  death  of  a  friend,  and  says,  "  the  one  is  ex- 
perienced by  the  soul  as  connected  with  an  organism,  while 
the  other  is  felt  in  the  soul  without  reference  to  the  sensorium 
at  all.  '  We  should  prefer  to  say  that  the  pain  of  a  cut  belongs 
to  the  body  alone,  as  an  organic  sensation,  while  the  pain 
caused  by  the  death  of  a  friend  belongs  to  the  mind,  and  can- 
not be  derived  from,  related  to,  or  classified  with  the  other  in 
any  way.  But,  however  stated,  this  correct  doctrine  removes 
the  need  of  any  mention  of  pleasure  and  pain  as  universal 
elements  of  sensation.  It  may  be  true  that  if  we  could  ab- 
stract our  attention  sufficiently  from  the  mental  content  of  our 
sensations,  we  should  find  that  they  are  all,  or  were  originally, 
accompanied  with  feeling.  The  child  learning  to  read  may  do 
so  with  pleasure  or  with  pain  and  disgust.  But  the  skillful 
reader  has  none  of  either  feeling  in  consciousness;  his  atten- 
tion is  entirely  absorbed  by  the  meaning  of  what  he  reads,  and 
the  higher  feelings  which  it  arouses  in  him.  When  we  hear  a 
piece  of  news  or  read  it  in  the  newspaper,  the  articulate  sounds 
of  the  voice  or  the  black  characters  on  a  white  ground,  are 
neither  agreeable  nor  disagreeable  in  the  sensations  which  they 
directly  occasion,  but  only  in  the  intellectual  content  of  their 
meaning. 

Sir  W.  Hamilton  elaborated  a  theory  that  feeling  and  knowl- 
edge are  in  inverse  ratio  in  every  act  of  perception,  or,  as  he 
phrased  it,  the  more  intense  the  sensation  proper  or  subjective 
consciousness,  the  more  indistinct  the  perception  proper  or 
objective  consciousness.  But  he  himself  was  obliged  to  re- 
strict this  by  saying  "  above  a  certain  limit,"  for  it  is  obvious, 
as  we  have  seeri,  that  some  sensations  have  no  content  of  feel- 
ing, and  some  never  appear  in  consciousness  at  all,  but  excite 
automatic  actions,  if  any,  and  hence  have  no  mental  content. 
It  is  disputed,  however,  whether  these  last  are  properly  calW 
sensations. 


Feeling  in  Sensation.  63 

One  of  Hamilton's  illustrations  is  that  of  a  dog,  to  which, 
though  his  "  sense  of  smell  is  so  acute,  all  odors  seem  in 
themselves  indifferent."  It  might  be  difficult  to  prove  that 
odors  are  indifferent  to  a  dog,  though  it  is  quite  possible  that 
he  abstracts  his  attention  from  the  feeling  and  gives  it  entirely 
to  discrimination,  as  we  ourselves  often  do.  Another  illustra- 
tion is  the  human  skin  in  the  sensation  of  touch.  The  tips  of 
the  fingers  are  more  discriminative,  but  less  sensitive  to  pain 
than  the  arm  or  the  back.  But  the  explanation  seems  to  be 
that  the  skin  is  thicker  at  the  tips  of  the  fingers;  a  pin  or 
a  sliver  there,  if  it  really  reaches  the  nerves,  causes  sharper 
pain  than  elsewhere;  and  the  heel,  where  the  skin  is  thickest 
of  all,  has  almost  no  discriminative  sensibility.  Yet  there  is  a 
good  deal  of  truth  in  Hamilton's  comparison,  which  we  think, 
however,  can  all  be  covered  by  the  following  statements  better 
than  by  laying  down  a  universal  dogma. 

1.  The  sensations  may  be  arranged  in  a  series,  from  those 
which  have  no  mental  content  but  are  wholly  feeling,  to  those 
which  have  no  content  of  feeling  but  are  all  mental.  A  tooth- 
ache is  all  pain;  a  glance  at  the  sun  is  nearly  all  pain;  a  sweet 
taste  is  part  pleasure  and  part  discrimination;  a  pleasant 
musical  air  has  more  complicated  and  difficult  discrimination; 
in  reading  a  book  the  mental  process  is  complicated  and  diffi- 
cult, gathering  up  the  arbitrary  symbols  and  interpreting  them 
into  sounds,  combining  these  into  words  and  interpreting  out 
of  them  the  author's  meaning,  with  all  the  subsidiary  trains  of 
thought  and  association  going  on  at  the  same  time;  sensuous 
feeling  is  usually  entirely  absent,  unless,  indeed,  feeling  be  ex- 
pressly defined  so  as  to  include  all  sensation. 

2.  The  attention  may  be  directed  to  either  element,  when  they 
are  combined,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other.  In  comparing 
two  samples  of  cloth  to  see  if  they  are  of  exactly  the  same 
color  we  have  sensation  about  as  pure  as  it  can  be  found,  yet 


64  The  Intellect. 

discrimination  is  intense;  we  know  nothing  of  the  colors  as 
agreeable  or  the  contrary,  for  the  moment,  but  only  know  them 
as  alike  or  different. 

Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  criticising  this  doctrine  of  Hamilton's 
says,  "  It  would  seem  not  so  much  that  sensation  and  percep- 
tion vary  inversely,  as  that  they  exclude  each  other  with  de- 
grees of  stringency  which  vary  inversely."  (Psychology  II, 
248.) 

IV.     Attention. 

Attention  is  a  necessary  condition  of  perception,  and  con- 
sists in  the  narrowing  or  concentration  of  the  activity  of  the 
mind  upon  one  or  a  few  sensations  to  the  exclusion  of  others. 
It  may  be  either  voluntary  or  spontaneous.  When  a  number 
of  different  sensations  are  occasioned  by  different  objects  at 
the  same  time,  they  may  only  cause  confusion,  and  no  one  of 
them  may  originate  a  perception.  If  one  of  them  or  one  set  of 
them  is  much  stronger  than  the  others,  so  as  to  overbear  them, 
it  will  force  the  recognition  and  attention  of  the  mind,  and 
occasion  a  perception.  Or  if  one  of  them  calls  up  a  more 
exciting  image  than  the  others,  owing  to  previous  associations 
or  familiar  knowledge,  the  voluntary  attention  of  the  mind  is 
instantly  directed  to  this  one.  Thus,  if  I  am  intently  reading 
a  book,  the  clock  may  strike  in  the  same  room,  but  the  well- 
accustomed  sound  cannot  force  its  way  among  the  set  of  sen- 
sations which  I  am  receiving  from  the  printed  page.  But  the 
sound  of  a  distant  fire-bell,  or  the  gnawing  of  a  rat  close  by,  is 
a  more  exciting  set  of  sensations,  and  I  stop  reading  and  give 
my  attention  to  the  new  sound. 

The  will  often  determines  a  change  in  the  flow  of  the  nerve- 
currents,  and  a  particular  organ  with  its  set  of  nerves  is 
rendered  more  active;  this  is  called  innervation.  We  often 
suspend  the  action  of  one  organ  to  render  another  more  acute, 
shut   the  eyes  or  hold  them  fixed,  in  order  to  catch  a  faint 


Attention.  65 

sound.  We  do  not  hear  what  a  friend  is  saying  to  us  while 
we  are  watching  an  exciting  scene  in  a' play,  or  scrutinizing 
a  distant  object  with  a  glass;  when  we  are  through  we  ask  him 
to  repeat,  innervate  the  ear,  that  is,  give  him  our  attention, 
and  hear  him  then  distinctly. 

If  any  sensation  is  extremely  intense  this  attracts  the  atten- 
tion, and  the  mind  knows  nothing  through  the  sensation.  If 
you  look  at  the  sun  you  cannot  see  anything,  but  the  intensity 
of  sensation  is  painful  and  injurious.'  With  a  bit  of  smoked 
glass  to  render  sensation  less  intense  you  can  see  an  eclipse  at 
its  very  beginning.  An  intense  pain  overpowers  all  the  facul- 
ties; while  your  tooth  is  being  pulled  you  can  neither  per- 
ceive nor  reason.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  soldiers  in  bat- 
tle often  receive  severe  flesh  wounds  without  knowing  it,  so  in- 
tense is  their  excitement.  That  attention  is  necessary  to  per- 
ception is  also  shown  by  every-day  occurrences,  such  as  when 
one  goes  around  looking  for  a  thing  which  is  in  his  hand,  or 
for  glasses  which  are  on  his  forehead. 

In  spontaneous  attention  it  is  only  the  direction  of  the  atten- 
tion which  is  automatic,  the  continuance  of  it  is  voluntary. 

"  In  attention  we  submit  to  an  impression,  we  keep  the 
mind  steady  in  order  to  receive  the  stamp."  (Coleridge.) 
"Attention  is  concentrated  observation."  (Calderwood.) 
"  The  greater  or  less  energy  in  the  operation  of  knowing  is 
called  attention,  which  is  another  term  for  tension  or  effort." 
(Porter.)  "The  content  of  our.  mind  at  each  moment  can  be 
only  very  limited,  and  we  can  entertain  simultaneously  only  a 
very  small  number  of  ideas."     (Drbal.) 

No  power  of  the  mind  is  more  susceptible  of  cultivation 
than  attention.  Young  children  cannot  fix  their  minds  on 
one  thing  more  than  a  few  minutes.  To  teach  scholars  how 
to  study,  to  train  the  power  of  attention,  is  perhaps  the  most 
difficult  office  of  the  teacher. 


66  The  Intellect. 

It  is  a  curious  question  how  many  objects  can  be  attended 
to  by  the  mind  at  the  same  time;  .Dugald  Stewart  pro- 
pounded a  theory  that  the  number  is  only  one,  and  that  in 
comparing  two  objects  the  mind  goes  with  almost  infinite  ra- 
pidity from  one  to  the  other.  This  theory  is  disproved  by  the 
commonest  experience.  The  most  important  part  of  all  our 
knowledge  is  the  knowledge  of  relations,  which  presupposes  at 
least  two  objects  in  the  mind  at  once. 

Yet  it  is  probable  that  the  most  complete,  intense  attention 
can  be  given  to  only  one  set  of  sensations  at  the  same  time. 
The  truth  seems  to  be  that  the  mind  can  distribute  its  activity 
among  several  objects  to  some  extent,  but  cannot  perceive  them 
all  with  the  same  vividness.  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  says; 
"  Consciousness  cannot  be  in  two  equally  distinct  states  at  the 
same  time."  (Psychology,  II,  250.)  But  he  also  says;— "I 
find  that  there  may  sometimes  be  detected  as  many  as  five 
simultaneous  series  of  nervous  changes,  which  in  various  de 
grees  rise  into  consciousness  so  far  that  we  cannot  call  any  of 
them  absolutely  unconscious.  When  walking  there  is  the  loco- 
motive series;  there  may  be  a  tactual  series;  and  there  is  the 
visual  series;  all  of  which  are  subordinate  to  the  dominant 
consciousness  formed  by  some  train  of  reflection."  (lb.  I, 
398.) 

A  still  more  curious  subject  connected  with  attention  is  the 
influence  of  excited  attention  and  expectation  in  producing 
illusions  and  hallucinations,  and  even  bodily  disorders.  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  soon  after  the  death  of  Lord  Byron,  having  been 
engaged  in  reading  an  account  of  the  departed  poet,  on  going 
into  another  room,  saw  an  exact  representation  of  Lord  Byron 
before  him.  Sensible  that  it  was  an  illusion  he  examined  the 
object,  and  found  it  to  be  a  screen  covered  with  coats,  shawls, 
etc.     (Carpenter,  Mental  Physiology,  207.) 

During  the  burning  of  the  Crystal  Palace  in  London,  many 


Qualities  of  Matter.  67 

spectators  saw  the  chimpanzee,  which  was  known  to  have 
escaped  from  his  cage,  writhing  around  one  of  the  iron  ribs 
of  the  building  in  the  midst  of  the  flames.  But  the  object 
turned  out  to  be  a  tattered  piece  of  blind,  tossed  about  in  the 
wind.  (Id.  ib.  208  )  Hypochondriacs  come  to  have  the  very 
disease  they  fancy.  The  victims  of  witchcraft  pine  away  and 
die,  because  they  believe  they  are  bewitched,  and  so  brood 
over  their  fate  with  intense  attention.  Many  wonderful  cures 
have  been  wrought  by  the  king's  touch,  by  holy  water,  by 
mesmeric  passes,  all  due  to  expectant  attention. 

Baron  Reichenbach  discovered  a  new  force  which  he  called 
odyle,  and  performed  many  wonderful  experiments  to  prove  it, 
all  with  excitable  and  nervous  persons.  But  Mr.  Braid  per- 
formed t*»e  same  experiments  without  any  odyle,  through  ex- 
pectant attention  alone.  His  patients,  being  taken  into  a  dark 
room  and  told  that  there  was  a  magnet  in  a  certain  corner, 
used  to  see  the  magnetic  force  issuing  from  it  in  the  form  of 
flames  of  fire,  although  there  was  really  no  magnet  there.  Mr. 
Home,  the  "medium"  was  proved  to  have  floated  out  of  one 
window  and  in  at  another  by  the  testimony  of  two  witnesses; 
but  another  witness  who  was  present  saw  nothing  of  the  kind. 
(See  the  works  of  Carpenter,  Maudsley,  Abercrombie,  Tuke, 
Brodie,  Sully.)  The  ventriloquist  and  the  conjuror  deceive  us 
by  directing  our  attention  where  they  wish,  quite  as  much  as  by 
their  dexterity.  - 

V.  Qualities  of  Matter. 

The  question  naturally  arises  in  connection  with  perception, 
how  it  is  that  matter  can  affect  our  sense-organs.  The  power 
of  occasioning  sensation  in  any  particular  way  has  usually  been 
called  a  quality,  and  the  description  and  classification  of  the 
qualities  of  matter  has  been  a  topic  of  some  importance.  It 
is  obvious  that  in  order  to  occasion  sensation  the  'qualities  of 
matter  must  exist,  or  its  powers  must  be  exerted,  in  certain  re- 


68  The  Intellect. 

lations  and  under  certain  conditions.  Qualities  are  called  by 
such  names  as  color,  weight,  hardness,  size,  smell,  etc.  But 
in  order  to  have  color  a  body  must  be  in  the  light;  and  in 
order  that  it  should  have  color  for  us,  we  must  have  eyes, 
must  look  at  the  body,  and  must  give  our  attention  to  what  we 
look  at.  In  order  to  have  smell  a  body  must  be  volatile,  to 
have  taste  it  must  be  soluble,  and  that  it  may  have  these  quali- 
ties for  us,  it  must  come  into  proper  relation  with  our  nerves  of 
sensation. 

It  is  commonly  said,  and  is  an  obvious  thought,  that  the 
qualities  of  matter  are  entirely  in  our  minds,  not  in  the  objects 
which  we  perceive;  that  there  is  no  color,  no  sound,  unless  an 
eye  or  an  ear  be  present  to  see  and  to  hear.  There  is  a  sense 
in  which  this  is  true.  Sweetness  does  not  exist  in  sugar  as 
sweetness,  but  as  a  peculiar  combination  of  atoms  of  oxygen, 
hydrogen,  and  carbon,  probably  held  in  combination  by  their 
coincident  or  rythmical  vibrations,  and  ready  to  change  their 
combination  under  certain  influences,  in  such  a  way  as  to  af- 
fect the  organ  of  taste.  So  color  does  not  exist  in  the  object 
as  color,  but  as  a  power  of  checking  some  of  the  light-vibra- 
tions, and  reflecting  others  unchanged,  probably  because  some 
of  the  vibrations  of  light  are  in  accord  or  in  rhythm  with  its 
own  atomic  vibrations  and  some  are  not. 

There  is  then  really  some  power  in  the  object  of  impressing 
or  influencing  objects  around  it  by  its  activities,  and  hence  of 
effecting  our  sense-organs,  which  are  a  set  of  instruments,  vary- 
ing in  delicacy  and  nature  from  a  pair  of  scales  for  measuring 
gravity,  to  a  photographic  plate  for  recording  the  vibrations  of 
light.  The  popular  mode  of  speech  is  justifiable  and  proper. 
The  roar  of  the  ocean  and  the  colors  of  the  flowers  are  real 
things,  motions  or  actions  of  matter,  not  indeed  sensations; 
but  then  they  could  never  be  sensations,  in  any  proper  use  of 
language,  but  only  occasions  of  sensation;  and  no  one  ever 


Qualities  of  Matter.  69 

said  that  they  were  sensations.  The  terms,  color,  sound,  hard- 
ness, etc.,  are  used,  however,  to  denote  both  our  sensations  and 
the  qualities  or  activities  of  bodies  which  occasion  those  sen- 
sations. Some  writers  confound  these  meanings,  and  we  need 
to  bear  the  distinction  carefully  in  mind. 

The  most  common  division  of  the  qualities  of  matter  has 
been  into  two  classes,  primary  and  secondary.  This  distinction 
may  be  said  to  date  back  to  the  earliest  period  of  philosophy. 
Democritus  distinguished  between  those  qualities  which  are 
known  by  touch  and  all  others,  and  denied  that  the  latter  give 
any  real  knowledge  of  matter. 

Aristotle  used  the  terms  common  sensibles  or  percepts,  and 
proper  sensibles  or  percepts,  the  former  being  magnitude 
(extension),  figure,  motion  or  rest,  and  number.  According 
to  Sir  W.  Hamilton  "  he  anticipated  Descartes,  Locke,  and 
other  modern  philosophers,  in  establishing,  and  making  out  by 
appropriate  terms,  a  distinction  precisely  analogous  with  that 
taken  by  them  of  the  primary  and  secondary  qualities  of  mat- 
ter."    (Philosophy,  ed.  by  Wight,  313.) 

Descartes  re-introduced  this  division  into  philosophy  in  the 
modern  period.  According  to  him  our  knowledge  of  the  pri- 
mary qualities  is  clear,  that  is,  intuitive,  self-evident;  but  of 
the  secondary  qualities  we  have  only  an  "obscure  and  con- 
fused conception  of  something  which  occasions  the  appropriate 
sensation."     (Porter,  Human  Intellect,  637.) 

But  as  he  taught  that  the  essence  of  matter  is  extension,  as 
the  essence  of  mind  is  thought,  the  knowledge  of  extension 
and  the  qualities  depending  on  it,  was,  for  him,  a  real  knowl- 
edge of  matter  as  it  is.  And  we  shall  find  this  doctrine  of  ex- 
tension, as  the  essential  attribute  of  matter,  pervading  subse- 
quent classifications. 

Locke's  division,  though  some  advance  upon  that  of  Des- 
cartes, is  yet  essentially  the  same,  and  accounted  for  in  the 


70  The  Intellect. 

same  way;  that  is,  the  primary  qualities  are  those  which  we 
perceive  directly,  intuitively,  as  they  really  are,  while  the 
secondary  are  merely  affections  of  the  mind  caused  by  bodies. 
He  says:  "A  power  to  produce  any  idea  in  our  mind,  I  call 
quality  of  the  subject  wherein  that  power  is;''  and  divides 
qualities  into,  "first,  such  as  are  utterly  inseparable  from  the 
body  in  what  estate  soever  it  be,"  such  as  solidity,  extension, 
figure,  motion  or  rest,  and  number,  and  secondly,  "  such  quali- 
ties which  in  truth  are  nothing  in  the  objects  themselves  but 
powers  to  produce  various  sensations  in  us  by  their  primary 
qualities,  that  is,  by  the  bulk,  figure,  texture,  and  motion  of 
their  insensible  parts,  as  colors,  sounds,  tastes,  etc."  (Essay 
on  Human  Understanding,  Book  2,  Ch.  8.) 

However  interesting  or  even  useful  this  division  may  be,  the 
reason  given  for  it  is  unsatisfactory.  We  can.no  more  con- 
ceive matter  without  secondary  qualities  than  without  primary. 
We  can  indeed  imagine  the  sky  to  be  green  and  the  grass  blue, 
but  we  must  conceive  every  object  to  have  some  color  (count- 
ing white  and  black  as  colors),  if  it  is  exposed  to  light  at  all? 
capable  of  emitting  sound,  if  struck  in  the  air;  having  some 
chemical  reactions,  similar  to  those  occasioning  smell  and  taste, 
having  some  degree  of  hardness  or  softness,  heat  or  cold,  elas- 
ticity or  rigidity,  etc. 

Moreover,  it  is  just  as  easy  to  conceive  matter  to  be  without 
figure  and  solidity  as  without  color;  the  ether,  if  it  transmits 
light,  must  be  matter,  yet  it  does  not  retard  the  motions  of 
the  planets;  a  gas  diffused  in  another  gas  can  hardly  be  said 
to  have  form.  Again,  number  is  not  a  quality  of  matter,  but 
a  logical  necessity  of  the  perception  of  different  objects;  we 
must  know  them  as  one  or  many,  if  we  know  them  at  all. 
And  motion  or  rest  is  no  quality  of  matter,  though  all  matter, 
so  far  as  we  know,  is  in  constant  motion. 

The  advance  of  physical   science  since  Locke's  time  leaves 


Qualities  of  Matter. 

little  room  for  doubt  that  the  primary  qualities  of  matter  de- 
pend as  much  on  the  "  bulk,  figure,  and  motion,  of  their  in- 
sensible parts,"  or  molecules,  as  do  the  secondary.  When  we 
feel  a  body  as  heavy,  pressing  down  on  the  hand,  the  sensa- 
tion results  from  an  activity  of  the  body,  pulling  itself  toward 
the  center  of  the  earth.  The  atoms  of  matter  are  supposed 
to  be  in  constant  vibration,  and  the  regularity  and  continuity 
of  these  vibrations  define  its  form  and  solidity.  In  fact,  it  is 
now  a  common  theory  that  the  very  essence  of  matter  is  the 
activity  of  its  "  insensible  parts,"  which  are  in  themselves  only 
centers  of  force,  having  a  merely  supersensual  existence. 

The  most  complete  and  elaborate  classification  of  the  qual- 
ities of  matter  is  that  of  Sir  W.  Hamilton.  His  division  is 
three-fold,  primary,  secundo-primary,  and  secondary.  The 
primary  qualities  are  deduced  "from  the  simple  datum  of  sub- 
stance occupying  space,"  and  fall  into  two  divisions,  the  prop- 
erty of  filling  space,  or  geometrical  solidity,  and  the  property 
of  being  contained  in  space,  or  physical  solidity, 

Geometrical  solidity  which  is  defined  as  "  the  necessity  of 
trinal  extension,  in  length,  breadth,  and  thickness,"  is  devel- 
oped into  three  qualities,  divisibility,  magnitude,  and  figure. 
Physical  solidity,  defined  as  ultimate  or  absolute  incompres- 
sibility,  is  really  equivalent  to  being  or  existence;  he  calls  it 
-impenetrability.  The  attribute  of  being  contained  in  space  is 
explicated  into  two,  mobility  or  motion  and  rest,  and  situa- 
tion or  position.  The  author  well  says  that  these  "  primary 
are  less  properly  denominated  qualities,  and  deserve  the  name 
only  as  we  conceive  them  to  distinguish  body  from  not  body, 
corporeal  from  incorporeal  substance."  They  are  indeed 
deductions  from  the  conception  of  matter  as  reality  whose 
essence  is  extension,  and  not  properly  qualities  at  all. 

The  secundo-primary  qualities  "are  all  contained  under  the 
category  of  resistance  or  pressure."      Resistance  or   pressure 


72 


The  Intellect. 


may  have  three  sources,  co-attraction,  repulsion,  and  inertia. 
The  first  involves  gravity  and  cohesion;  gravity  gives  the  quali- 
ties heavy  and  light,  cohesion  gives  hard  and  soft,  solid  and 
fluid,  tough  and  brittle,  etc.  Repulsion  is  developed  into  com- 
pressible and  incompressible,  elastic  and  inelastic.  Inertia 
gives  movable  and  immovable.  The  secondary  qualities  are 
such  as  color,  sound,  flavor,  the  feelings  of  heat,  sneezing, 
shuddering,  setting-the-teeth-on-edge,  etc. 

"The  primary  determine  the  possibility  of  matter  abso- 
lutely; the  secundo-pnmary,  the  possibility  of  the  material 
universe  as  actually  constituted;  the  secondary  the  possibility 
of  our  relation  as  sentient  existences  to  that  universe."  "  The 
primary  may  be  roundly  characterized  as  mathematical;  the 
secundo-primary,  as  mechanical;  the  secondary,  as  physiologi- 
cal."    (Metaphysics,  Bo  wen's  ed.,  340.) 

Our  remarks  upon  Locke's  division  are  also  applicable  to 
Hamilton's  second  and  third  classes.  Considered  as  qualities 
of  bodies,  these  are  activities,  powers  of  affecting  other  bodies; 
and  since  we  can  transform  these  motions  into  sensation,  and 
interpret  these  sensations  in  perception  and  thought,  the  activ- 
ity of  objects  toward  us  seems  to  differ  from  their  activity  to- 
ward other  things,  but  it  is  not  really  different.  All  the  quali- 
ties of  matter,  except  those  metaphysical  qualities  which  are 
not  properly  so  called,  are  similarly  related  to  perception. 
Even  impenetrability  is  declared  by  Lotze  to  be,  not  a  prop- 
erty but  an  activity  of  matter,  somewhat,  we  suppose,  as  the 
pressure  of  gases  is  due  to  molecular  vibration.  "  Bodies  do 
not  react  on  one  another  because  they  are  impenetrable,  but 
they  are  impenetrable  because  they  react  on  one  another." 
(Dictate  Naturphilosophie,  §19.) 

Mr.  Herbert  Spencer's  classification  differs  from  Hamilton's 
only  in  terminology.  He  calls  the  three  classes  "body  as 
presenting    statical,    statico-dynamical,    and    dynamical    attri- 


Substance  and  Attribute.  73 

butes."  This  nomenclature  is  not  more  felicitous  than  Hamil- 
ton's; for  all  qualities  of  bodies  which  appear  in  perception 
must  be  dynamical,  must  exert  force  or  influence  of  some 
kind;  and  all  must  be  statical,  must  have  continuous,  inde- 
pendent existence. 

SUBSTANCE  AND  ATTRIBUTE. 

When  we  speak  of  qualities  the  question  necessarily  arises, 
Qualities  of  what?  The  term  quality,  or  attribute,  implies 
substance.  The  two  are  really  inseparable,  like  the  correla- 
tive terms,  husband  and  wife,  triangle  and  three  sides.  Are 
qualities,  then,  one  thing  and  objects  another?  Are  qual- 
ities something  which  the  object  may  have  or  not  have,  and 
which  may  exist  by  themselves,  apart  from  objects  ?  Mr. 
Mill  replies  that  qualities  only  exist,  there  is  no  substance,  or 
substratum,  matter  is  only  a  permanent  possibility  of  certain 
sensations.  Berkeley  is  generally,  though  erroneously,  under- 
stood to  have  held  the  same  view.  Hume  distinctly  denied 
the  existence  of  the  real  thing  to  which  the  qualities  belong. 
Kant  maintained  that  there  is  such  a  real  existence,  or  noume- 
non,  but  that  it  is  unknowable.  In  this  he  is  followed  by 
Herbert  Spencer  and  many  others.  Other  philosophers  have 
in  general  held  to  the  reality  of  substance. 

Undoubtedly  the  constitution  of  our  minds  is  such  that 
when  we  perceive  an  object  we  perceive  it  as  really  existing; 
our  minds  act  in  this  relation  under  the  category  of  being, 
and  we  can  never  practically  accept  the  belief  that  the  object 
is  nothing  but  a  set  of  sensations.  No  argument  can  make 
this  any  clearer.  But  there  is  not  in  nature  or  in  conscious- 
ness anything  corresponding  to  the  separation  of  the  object  into 
substance  and  attribute,  real  thing  and  quality.  This  separa- 
tion is  purely  logical,  and  has  an  effect  somewhat  like  divid- 
ing the  mind  awkwardly  into  different  faculties. 


74  The  Intellect. 

Substance  apart  from  quality  is  only  an  abstraction,  for  there 
is  no  real  being  without  attributes.  Being  without  attributes 
is  equivalent  to  non-being.  To  say  that  the  noumenon  is  un- 
knowable apart  from  phenomena  is  mere  platitude,  for  of 
course  we  can  only  know  what  is  in  relation  to  us,  and  know 
it  by  those  relations.  We  know  the  object  as  related  to  us  by 
its  qualities  or  activities,  and  there  is  no  object  without  quali- 
ties or  activities.  "  Sensible  qualities,"  says  Lotze,  "  show  us 
how  things  act,  not  what  they  are."  (Dictate,  Metaphysik, 
§16.)  Not  what  they  are,  that  is,  apart  from  their  action;  but 
they  are  just  as  they  act. 

"The  'underlying  substance'  of  the  schools,  the  'thing  in  it- 
self of  Kanty  are  mere  names,  which  signify  either  being  in  the 
abstract  or  being  in  the  concrete.  If  it  is  being  in  the  abstract, 
then  it  must  be  synonymous  with  matter  as  knowable,  that  is, 
it  is  only  a  concept,  which  can  be  separate  from  its  relations  in 
thought  but  never  in  fact.  If  it  is  being  in  the  concrete,  then 
this  must  be  known  with  its  relations  and  never  apart  from 
them.  In  either  case  the  substance  or  thing  in  itself  cannot 
be  known  by  itself."  (Porter,  Human  Intellect,  632.  See 
also  Bowne's  Metaphysics,  48.) 

CONSCIOUSNESS.       ■ 

This  important  subject  may  be  said  to  be  transitional,  be- 
tween topics  connected  with  perception,  and  the  necessary 
elements  of  perception. 

Every  perception,  feeling,  or  act  of  will,  is  accompanied  by. 
a  knowledge  of  self  as  the  perceiving,  feeling,  or  willing  agent. 
This  is  called  consciousness,  a  very  appropriate  designation, 
since  by  its  etymology  it  means  a  with-knowing.  It  can  be 
separated  from  other  acts  of  the  mind  only  logically,  not  prac- 
tically. It  is  an  inseparable  element  of  every  act  of  perception, 
omitted  hitherto  in  our  discussions,  in  order  to  avoid  complica- 


Consciousness;  75 

tion,  and  because  its  importance  demands  separate  and  fuller 
treatment.  "We  know  and  we  know  that  we  know;  these 
propositions,"  says  Hamilton,  "logically  distinct,  are  really 
identical." 

The  facts  of  memory  make  this  clear.  When  we  remember 
anything,  a  former  perception,  or  feeling,  or  action,  the  ele- 
ment of  self  is  perfectly  clear.  All  philosophers  are  agreed 
that  there  is  here  an  irresistible  belief  in  the  identity  and  con- 
tinuity of  the  past  perception  and  the  present  memory,  how- 
ever they  may  explain  it  or  try  to  explain  it  away. 

Professor  Ferrier  has  most  ingeniously  based  a  whole  system 
of  metaphysics  on  the  postulate,  or  ultimate  datum,  which  he 
considers  self-evident,  that  consciousness  of  self  accompanies 
all  knowledge.  "  All  cognition  is  a  knowledge  of  self  plus  an 
object." 

It  would  be  well  if  the  term  could  be  confined  to  this  mean- 
ing, self-knowledge,  as  implied  in  all  mental  action.  But  gen- 
eral usage  gives  it  a  wider  meaning,  and  we  cannot  hope  to 
make  this  useful  restriction.  It  is  commonly  used  in  the  sense, 
of  "introspection,  or  introspective  attention,"  (Bain);  "the 
power  by  which  the  soul  knows  its  own  acts  or  states,"  (Porter); 
"  the  immediate  knowledge  which  the  mind  has  of  its  sensa- 
tions and  thoughts,  and,  in  general,  of  all  its  present  operations." 
(Morell.) 

*Hence  consciousness  is  often  spoken  of  as  a  faculty  of  the 
mind.  Such  phrases  are  almost  inevitable,  and  yet  they  are 
misleading;  for  consciousness  is  parallel  with  all  the  faculties,  a 
condition  of  them  all,  not  properly  to  be  considered  a  faculty, 
co-ordinate  with,  for  example,  perception,  or  imagination.  If 
the  power  of  knowing  that  we  know  is  a  faculty,  parallel  with 
preception,  imagination,  etc.,  then  we  are  required  to  suppose 
another  and  higher  faculty  to  embrace  both  in  one  unity  of 
feeling;  but  this  faculty  would  be  consciousness  in  the  usual 
sense,  hence  the  first  is  a  useless  supposition. 


76  The  Intellect. 

Less  positively  incorrect,  but  still  objectionable  and  to  be 
avoided,  are  all  figurative  ways  of  speaking  of  consciouness,  as 
a  witness  (Cousin),  a  light  (Hickok),  a  dry  light  (Coleridge),  a 
revealer,  etc. 

Consciousness  is  often  said  to  be  the  source  of  all  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  operations  of  the  mind,  and  psychology  has  even 
been  called  "  an  inquiry  into  the  facts  of  consciousness.  All 
that  we  can  truly  learn  of  mind  must  be  learned  by  attending 
to  the  various  ways  in  which  it  becomes  conscious."     (Fleming.) 

Cultured  consciousness,  or  introspection,  is  indeed  an  im- 
portant source  of  knowledge  in  psychology,  but  not  the  only 
one;  much  may  be  learned  by  observation  and  comparison, 
and  these  are  important  checks  upon  the  errors  and  deceptions 
of  introspection.  John  Locke  deserves  credit  for  calling  at- 
tention to  this  source  of  knowledge,  under  the  name  of  reflec- 
tion. He  taught,  however,  that  what  we  know  in  consciousness 
is  the  operations  of  the  mind,  not  the  mind  itself.  Among 
his  followers,  says  President  Porter,  "it  has  passed  into  a  posi 
tive  dogma  that  the  soul- in  consciousness  cognizes  the  opera- 
tion only,  and  nothing  besides." 

The  correct  formula  is,  we  know  the  ego  as  modified  in  its 
changing  states,  whether  of  perception  or  feeling  or  action, 
limited  by  whatever  relations.  We  place  the  ego  first  because 
it  is  "unchanged  and  permanent,"  while  the  "states  are  vary, 
ing  and  transitory,"  to  quote  the  words  of  President  Porter, 
who  continues,  correctly  and  clearly:  "  It  is  of  the  very  nature 
and  essence  of  a  psychical  state  to  be  the  act  or  experience  of 
an  individual  ego.  We  are  not  first  conscious  of  the  state  or 
operation,  and  then  forced  to  look  around  for  a  something  to 
which  it  is  to  be  referred,  or  to  which  it  may  belong;  but  what 
we  know,  and  as  we  know  it,  is  the  state  of  an  individual  per- 
son. .  .  .  The  fact  of  memory  proves  it  beyond  dispute." 
(Human  Intellect,  95.) 


Consciousness.-  77 

On  the  other  hand,  some  have  denied  the  possibility  of  this 
philosophical  consciousness.  Comte  dogmatically  asserted 
that  consciousness  is  one  state,  perception,  or  feeling  another, 
and  two  such  cannot  exist  together;  an  absurdity  which  every 
one's  experience  disproves.  Herbert  Spencer  says  "no  one 
is  conscious  of  what  he  is,  but  of  what  he  was  the  moment 
before."  It  is  a  sufficient  reply  to  this,  that  all  other  philoso- 
phers are  agreed  to  call  this  kind  of  knowledge,  characterized 
by  the  element  of  past  time,  by  the  name  of  memory,  not  con- 
sciousness; and  that  it  rests  on  the  same  assumption  with 
Com  te's,  that  the  mind  cannot  do  two  things  at  once,  which 
is  entirely  gratuitous. 

We  do  not  intend  to  affirm  that  consciousness  is  always 
equally  clear  and  forcible  in  every  act  of  the  mind,  nor  that  it 
is  intuitive  in  the  sense  of  being  incapable  of  culture.  The 
infant  has  blurred  and  inaccurate  perceptions  and  confused 
feelings,  and  of  course  its  consciousness  is  equally  blurred, 
yet  real  and  easily  demonstrated.  It  cannot  tell  you  that  it 
knows  the  ego  from  the  non-ego,  neither  can  it  tell  you  that 
it  has  a  pain  in  its  stomach.  Yet  it  knows  that  the  pain  is  in 
its  own  stomach,  not  in  yours;  knows  that  its  mother  is  not 
the  same  being  as  itself;  knows,  in  some  dim  way,  itself  as  a 
separate  being  or  entity.  Before  even  this  dim  state  of  knowl- 
edge arises,  we  may  say  that  the  child  has  not  consciousness 
in  the  full  sense  of  the  term.  "As  long  as  the  sensations  are 
confused  together,  and  are  not  discriminated,  .  .  .  the 
soul  remains  in  this  elementary  condition  of  comparative  un- 
consciousness. This  is  the  condition  of  the  infant  [at  birth]. 
It  is  also  the  condition  into  which  the  developed  man  relapses 
in  swooning,  distraction,  intoxication,  or  approaching  sleep." 
(Porter,  Human  Intellect,  100.) 

But  as   soon  as   discrimination  begins,  and  the  actions  are 

no  longer  quite  automatic,  consciousness  is.  real,  though   its 
6 


78  The  Intellect. 

content  may  be  slight  and  dim.  The  philosopher,  accustomed 
to  introspection  and  familiar  with  abstract  terms,  can  argue 
better  about  himself,  and  describe  his  feelings  better  than  the 
ignorant  laborer;  but  he  is  not  anymore  certain  of  his  own 
identity,  more  sure  that  it  is  he  himself,  and  not  another, 
who  experiences  all  his  sensations. 

Even  the  brute,  though  he  cannot  express  any  distinction 
between  the  ego  and  the  non-ego,  has  consciousness  more  or 
less  developed.  The  dog  knows  whether  you  whip  him  or 
another  dog,  knows  whether  it  is  he  or  another  dog  that  has  a 
bone.  In  the  lower  orders  of  the  animal  creation  it  is  not 
easy  to  say  how  far  down  consciousness  can  be  traced,  but  we 
may  say  confidently  that  it  cannot  exist  where  the  actions  are 
demonstrably  automatic,  as  in  the  oyster,  etc.,  noticed  under 
the  head  of  sensation. 

"  It  is  probable,"  says  President  Bascom,  "  that  sensibility  to 
physical  pain  and  pleasure,  and  the  appetites,  were  the  first  mental 
facts  to  appear  in  consciousness.  .  .  .  This  also  is  the 
order  of  development  in  human  life.  The  infant  enters  on  a 
conscious  activity  first  through  the  sensibilities,  the  appetites, 
and  is  trained  for  months  in  this  school.  .  .  .  But  the  ap- 
petites must  almost  immediately  be  supported  in  conscious- 
ness by  the  special  senses There  seems  to  be 

good  ground  to  believe  that  consciousness  arises  slowly  with 
the  increase  of  that  unity  in  the  nervous  system  which  puts  it 
under  the  control  of  a  single  center,  gathers  the  senses  about 
that  center,  and  knits  the  organic  life  as  closely  as  does  con- 
sciousness our  intellectual  activity;  .  .  .  that  conscious- 
ness becomes  the  specialized  function  of  the  cerebrum, 
from  a  previously  weak,  vague,  and  confused  form.  . 
.  .  .  .  The  clearest  proof  of  consciousness  in  doubtful 
territory  is  memory.  This  faculty  is  the  basis  of  experience, 
and  not  till  it  has  been  obtained  can  the  facts  of  conscious- 


Consciousness.  79 

ness,  if  any  are  present,  be  organized  into  knowledge.  The 
action  of  memory  is  also  more  readily  discriminated  from  au- 
tomatic action  than  is  the  conscious  from  the  unconscious  use 
of  the  senses."     (Comparative  Psychology,  180-188.) 

Recent  observations  by  Sir  J.  Lubbock,  Kirby  and  Spence, 
etc.,  go  to  show  that  the  intellect  of  the  insects,  ants,  bees, 
wasps,  etc.,  has  been  greatly  overestimated,  that  memory  is  al- 
most lacking  to  them,  and  hence  consciousness  must  be  dim 
and  vague,  and  those  actions  which  seem  so  wonderful,  almost 
entirely  automatic. 

Philosophical  consciousness,  or  careful  introspection,  is  as 
capable  of  culture  and  improvement  by  education  as  any  other 
power  of  the  mind.  "  Men  differ  more  widely  in  respect  to 
the  energy  and  effect  with  which  they  use  this  power  than  in 
respect  to  any  other."  (Porter,  Hum.  Int.,  87.)  By  direct- 
ing the  attention  to  the  various  elements  of  perception,  the  ob- 
ject, the  sensational  process,  the  element  of  self,  we  learn  to 
observe  ourselves,  the  action  of  our  senses  and  minds. 

The  uncultured  consciousness  does  not  distinguish  between 
mind  and  body.  To  the  child  or  the  savage  his  self  is  his 
body,  with  all  the  powers  he  has,  mental  and  physical;  and 
when  he  has  the  feeling,  "  it  is  I  who  perceive  this  object," 
he  has  no  notion  of  an  immaterial  self,  distinct  from  the  body. 
Socrates  is  represented  by  Plato  as  going  through  a  long  ex- 
planation, and  asking  many  questions,  before  he  can  make  the 
distinction  between  the  two  kinds  of  ego  clear  even  to  his 
grown-up  pupils.  After  many  comparisons,' such  as  that  of  a 
shoemaker's  knife,  and  a  shoemaker's  hand,  as  equally  instru- 
ments, he  at  length  extorts  an  apparently  unwilling  concession 
of  the  point. 

Under  religious  and  moral  instruction  especially,  the  feeling 
may  be  very  early  aroused;  but  it  is  essentially  an  acquired 
one,  a  product  of  the  cultured   consciousness.     We  are  con- 


8o  The  Intellect. 

scious  of  self  as  the  subject  of  thought,  feeling,  and  action. 
If  we  have  not  learned  that  thought  is  not  a  function  of  the 
body,  or  that  the  soul  is  a  distinct  entity  from  the  body,  then 
consciousness  cannot  present  to  us  such  an  ego. 

Some  strange  opinions  concerning  the  ego  have  been  held 
by  philosophers,  in  their  anxiety  to  carry  out  preconceived 
theories.  Mr.  J.  S.  Mill  held  that  the  mind  is  a  series  of  sen- 
sations and  feelings.  But  he  was  compelled  to  admit  that  it 
must  be  conceived  as  a  series  of  sensations  which  is  aware  of  itself! 
Such  a  mind  would  be  like  a  string  of  beads  without  any 
string.  Again,  on  reaching  the  subject  of  memory,  Mill  saw 
the  impossibility  of  explaining  it  without  a  person  or  entity  of 
some  sort  to  be  the  continuous  subject  of  a  continuous  action, 
and  frankly  declared  that  memory  was  the  final  inexplicability 
which  he  could  not  manage  on  his  system.  The  nature  of 
self  will  be  more  conveniently  discussed  when  we  come  to 
speak  of  the  soul. 

AUTHORITY    OF    CONSCIOUSNESS. 

Consciousness  is  necessarily  the  court  of  final  appeal  in  all 
matters  that  come  within  its  range.  "  The  facts  of  conscious- 
ness are  the  most  certain  of  all  facts.  The  objects  which  con- 
sciousness presents  are,  if  possible,  more  real  and  better  at- 
tested than  the  objects  of  sense.  .  .  .  We  may  doubt 
whether  this  or  that  object  be  a  reality  or  a  phantasm,  but  we 
cannot  doubt  that  we  doubt."     (Porter,  Hum.  Int.,  115.) 

The  difficulties  which  arise  about  this  matter  turn  on  false 
assumptions  as  to  what  consciousness  can  do,  or  false  reports 
of  what  it  really  does,  or  else  are  mere  verbal  disputes.  If  an 
insane  man  tells  us  that  he  is  conscious  of  being  made  of  glass, 
he  is  mistaken;  but  he  would  be  equally  mistaken  if  he  said 
that  he  was  conscious  of  being  made  of  flesh  and  blood  and 
bones.     No  such  subject  comes  within  the  range  of  conscious- 


Unconscious  Perception.  8i 

ness.  .If  a  man  tells  us  that  he  is  conscious  that  two  straight 
lines  cannot  enclose  a  space,  we  reply,  it  is  impossible,  and  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  admit  such  language,  for  it  opens  the 
door  to  endless  dogmatism.  The  mind  has  no  organ  for  truth, 
though  it  has  command  of  certain  tests  by  which  truth  may  be 
tried.  When  the  mind  is  conscious  of  being  in  a  certain  state, 
of  receiving  certain  sensations,  or  experiencing  certain  feel- 
ings, there  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  about  the  truth  of  it. 
But  some  abnormal  condition  of  the  body  or  mind  may  have  orig- 
inated the  stateor  impression.  The  insane  man  is  conscious  that 
his  limbs  feel  hard  and  smooth,  like  glass,  to  him.  He  is  right, 
but  his  perceptions  originate  in  his  own  mind,  dominated  by 
a  "fixed  idea."  The  mathematician  has  an  immediate  per- 
ception that  two  straight  lines  cannot  enclose  a  space;  but 
what  he  is  conscious  of  is  the  perception,  not  the  fact. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  dicta  in  the  history  of  philoso- 
phy is  Descartes',  "  Cogito,  ergo  sum."  It  was  intended  as  a 
refutation  of  absolute  skepticism.  Whatever  I  doubt,  I  can- 
not doubt  that  there  is  something  which  doubts  and  thinks; 
to  do  so  is  to  destroy  the  doubt  itself  and  render  all  reasoning 
impossible.  When  Descartes  was  asked  to  explain  his  dictum 
he  substituted  for  ergo„  scilicet^  cyest-a-dire,  showing  that  this  is 
the  correct  interpretation  of  his  words.  "In  consciousness  I 
am  confronted,  not  with  a  thought,  but  with  a  being.  What- 
ever else  may  be  unreal,  whether  idea,  phantasm,  or  specula- 
tion, this  acting  and  suffering  self  is  a  reality,  not  a  mere  phe- 
nomenal as  contrasted  with  a  transcendental  ego,  nor  an  ego 
inferred  or  suggested,  but  an  ego  directly  known  to  be."  (Por- 
ter, Human  Intellect,  99.) 

UNCONSCIOUS    PERCEPTION. 

An  interesting  question  arising  in  connection  -with  the  sub- 
ject of  consciousness,  is  the  extent  to  which  mental  action  may 
be    unconscious.     The  phenomena  called  by  Dr.    Carpenter 


82  The  Intellect. 

"unconscious  cerebration,"  and  by  Sir  W.  Hamilton  V  latent 
modifications  of  consciousness,"  will  be  discussed  under  the 
head  of  Association.  We  have  already  seen  under  the  head  of 
Sensation  that  some  writers  use  the  term  "sensation"  of  im- 
pressions which  are  entirely  automatic,  and  do  not  appear  in 
consciousness,  but  the  more  general  and  better  usage  is  against 
this. 

In  some  cases,  however,  the  point  may  be  a  doubtful  one. 
When  a  student,  absorbed  in  his  book,  does  not  notice  the 
clock  striking  in  the  same  room,  he  afterwards,  in  some  cases, 
recalls  having  heard  it.  In  such  a  case  he  may  have  had  the 
sensations,  occasioned  by  the  sound,  at  the  time,  but,  attention 
being  intently  directed  elsewhere,  no  perception  was  formed, 
and  the  sensations  were  automatically  recorded.  More  proba- 
bly, however,  the  supposed  remembering  of  the  sound  is  an  im- 
agination, a  phantasm,  suggested  by  the  fact  being  learned  that 
the  clock  really  has  struck.  Some  remarks  made  under  the 
head  of  Attention  are  applicable  to  this  point. 

Sir  W.  Hamilton  applies  the  term,  Unconscious  Mental 
Action,  to  the  elements  of  compound  sensations.  For  ex- 
ample, the  roar  of  the  ocean  at  a  distance  is  made  up  of  the 
noise  of  many  waves,  each  one  of  which,  by  itself,  is  inaudible. 
Hamilton  contends  "that  they  produce  a  certain  modification, 
beyond  consciousness,  on  the  percipient  subject."  But  no 
proof  can  be  given  of  such  a  view.  It  is  far  more  probable 
that  each  impulse  by  itself  is  too  weak,  in  compound  sensa- 
tions, to  affect  the  sense-organ. 

Psychology  "  is  unable  to  advance  any  proof  of  unconscious 
elements  or  processes  in  the  human  mind.  Such  proof  is,  in- 
deed, in  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  unattainable."  (Sully, 
Pessimism,  192.) 


Uses  of  the  Term  Consciousness.  83 

uses  of  the  term  consciousness. 

A  subjective  division  of  consciousness  has  been  adopted  by 
President  Porter,  into  two  kinds,  natural  or  spontaneous,  and 
reflective  or  philosophical.  But  these  are  really  different  stages 
in  the  cultivation  of  introspection,  and  are  not  distinct  enough 
to  deserve  separate  mention  as  different  kinds  of  consciousness. 

An  objective  division  may  be  mentioned,  into,  first,  the  feel- 
ing of  self  as  a  necessary  element  in  perception,  and  second, 
the  knowledge  of  the  mind  and  its  states,  of  the  mind  as  modi- 
fied. 

Sir  W.  Hamilton  used  the  term  consciousness  sometimes  in 
the  usual  sense,  a  knowledge  of  the  mind  and  its  states,  some- 
times in  a  wider  sense,  as  "a  comprehensive  term  for  the  com- 
plement of  our  cognitive  energies."  He  says  that  "conscious- 
ness and  immediate  knowledge  are  terms  universally  converti- 
ble." He  extends  the  term  consciousness  to  knowledge  of  the 
external  world,  and  says  "  I  am  conscious  of  the  inkstand." 
Worst  of  all,  he  does  not  strictly  adhere,  in  all  cases,  to  the 
same  meaning  of  the  term  throughout  the  same  argument. 
The  extended  use  of  consciousness  as  equivalent  to  knowledge, 
he  probably  derived  from  the  German  word  "bewusstsein," 
which  denotes,  as  President  Porter  remarks,  rather  a  be-know- 
ing,  than  a  with-knowing,  and  is  commonly  used  to  mean  know- 
ing in  general.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  Hamilton  lent 
his  great  influence  to  confuse  the  nomenclature  of  philosophy  in 
English  on  this  important  topic,  by  thus  teaching  the  duality  of 
consciousness. 

Mr.  Plerbert  Spencer  also  uses  consciousness  as  equivalent 
to  knowledge.  He  also  speaks  of  being  conscious  of  space, 
of  time,  and  of  motion,  and  even  says  in  one  place,  "we  are 
scarcely  at  all  conscious  of  the  space  behind  us."  He  also 
calls  dreaming  "sleep-consciousness."  This  use  of  the  term 
has  some  advantages  with  reference  to  space  and  time,  but  it 


84  The  Intellect. 

is  better  to  call  these  necessary  elements  in  perception  than  to 
say  we  are  conscious  of  them. 

Dr.  Cocker  carries  this  confusion  still  farther  by  making  two 
cross-divisions,  each  threefold.  He  divides  consciousness  sub- 
jectively considered,  somewhat  as  President  Porter  does,  into 
spontaneous,  representational,  and  reflective;  objectively  into 
knowledge  of  self,  of  the  world,  and  of  God. 

The  terms  Christian  consciousness,  and  God-consciousness, 
have  been  borrowed  from  the  German  by  some  writers.  In 
place  of  the  latter  term,  "intuition  of  God"  is  in  better 
English  usage,  and  even  better  expresses  the  real  meaning  of 
the  German;  "necessary  idea  of  God"  is  also  frequently  used 
in  this  meaning. 


NECESSARY  ELEMENTS  OF  PERCEPTION. 
I.  Space. 

We  have  seen,  when  discussing  the  senses  separately,  that 
through  sensations  of  sight,  under  certain  conditions,  we  know 
external  objects  as  extended  in  two  directions,  as  having  sur- 
face-extension; and  that  through  sensations  of  touch  and  mus- 
cular motion,  under  certain  conditions,  we  know  objects  as  ex- 
tended in  three  directions,  as  having  solidity.  This  obviously 
introduces  a  new  subject,  that  of  Space,  which  we  could  not 
delay  at  that  point  to  examine,  and  whose  importance  demands 
separate  treatment. 

The  question  what  space  is  in  itself,  belongs  to  metaphysics, 
and  we  shall  only  discuss  it  so  far  as  it  is  incidental  to  our 
present  purpose. 

As  to  the  cognition  of  space,  two  great  theories  divide 
philosophers.  On  the  one  hand  it  has  been  held  by  the  ma- 
jority that  our  knowledge  of  space  is  previous  to  all  experi- 


•      Space.  85 

ence  of  things  in  space,  so  that  we  bring  to  our  perceptions  of  the 
external  world  this  a  priori  concept,  or  intuitive  idea  of  space. 
On  the  other  hand,  John  Locke  attempted  to  show  and  his 
followers  still  hold,  that  all  our  knowledge  of  space  is  derived 
entirely  from  sensations.  The  first  school,  holding  that  our 
ideas  of  space,  time,  cause,  etc.,  are  necessary  elements  of 
cognition,  not  derived  from  experience,  are  called  intuitional- 
ists,  a  priori  philosophers,  or  various  other  names  of  similar 
significance.  Those  who  derive  all  these  from  experience  are 
called  sensationalists,  experientialists,  experience  philosophers, 
etc. 

John  Locke's  polemic  against  intuitive  ideas  had  great  force 
against  the  crude  way  of  viewing  the  subject  at  that  time  in 
vogue,  and  has  resulted  in  a  change  of  the  entire  situation. 
It  is  no  longer  held  by  the  intuitionalists  that  the  mind  is 
equipped  with  ready-made  knowledge  previous  to  experience, 
nor  that  this  knowledge  springs  up  in  completeness  on  the  oc- 
casion of  the  first  experience;  but  these  principles  are  gener- 
ally considered,  with  more  or  less  clearness  and  consistency, 
to  be  conditions  of  thought,  formulas  or  categories  under 
which  the  mind  acts,  necessary  or  primary  elements  of  cogni- 
tion.    To  this  point  we  shall  return. 

It  is  often  overlooked,  however,  by  the  intuitionalist  philos- 
ophers, that  our  objective  knowledge  of  space  as  a  quality  or 
relation  of  actually  existing  bodies,  is  a  product  of  experience. 
On  this  point  Sir  W.  Hamilton  has  suggested  a  useful  distinc- 
tion. He  says  that  space "  is  known  a  priori,-  extension  a 
posteriori;  that  is,  the  term  extension  should  be  applied  to 
space  as  filled  by  bodies,  or  measured  by  the  distances  be- 
tween bodies,  while  the  term  space  should  be  reserved  to  mean 
an  eternal  condition  of  the  existence  of  the  material  universe, 
the  abstract  something  which  makes  these  concretely-known 
relations   possible.     It  would   be  well  if  the  terms  could  be 


86  The  Intellect.  • 

used  in  this  way,  but  the  attempt  so  to  restrict  them  would  be 
hopeless,  especially  as  so  many  recent  writers  purposely  con- 
found the  two,  and  attempt  to  reduce  all  space  to  exten- 
sion. 

When  we  begin  our  mental  life  we  first  learn  the  space- 
relations  of  the  objects  close  about  us;  then  the  parts  and 
furniture  of  the  room  and  house;  then  the  trees,  houses,  etc., 
objects  which  we  see  from  day  to  day;  next  cities,  mountains, 
seas,  the  globe  on  which  we  live.  The  moon,  too,  is  compara- 
tively easily  reached  by  this  space-construction,  its  distance 
being  easily  comparable  with,  those  which  we  have  already 
learned.  Thence  we  ascend  to  the  planets  and  the  stars, 
where,  for  any  real  understanding,  we  must  use  a  new  standard 
of  measurement,  no  longer  miles  but  diameters  of  the  earth 
or  of  its  orbit.  Thus  we  "  place  ourselves  "  in  the  universe, 
and  learn  our  space  relations  (extension-relations.) 

But  on  the  other  hand  the  experience- philosophers  overlook 
the  most  important  point,  that  not  a  single  object  can  be  per- 
ceived as  extended,  not  a  single  distance  can  be  compared  or 
estimated  or  imagined,  not  a  single  step  taken  in  this  process 
of  so-called  generalization,  which  does  not  involve  space  as  an 
element  in  cognition.  If  I  see  a  tall  and  a  short  man  to- 
gether, I  cannot  tell  in  what  the  difference  between  them  con- 
sists, unless  I  have  at  the  time  of  comparing  them,  in  and 
with  the  act  of  comparison,  and  as  a  kind  of  category  which  I 
apply  in  that  act,  a  knowledge,  in  my  mind,  if  not  in  words, 
of  bigness  or  size.  So,  if  the  points  of  a  pair  of  compasses 
are  placed  upon  my  skin,  not  too  near  together,  so  that  the 
two  sensations  are  exactly  alike  except  in  place,  I  could  not 
know  that  this  is  the  particular  in  which  they  differ,  if  I  had 
not,  in  and  with  my  double  sensation,  some  cognition  of  what 
difference  in  place  depends  upon,  that  is,  space.  So,  also,  if  I 
look  upon  a  colored  object  and  feel  around  it    with    my  eyes, 


Space.    •  87 

following  its  outline  by  rotation  of  the  eyes,  I  perceive  the 
points  and  parts  of  the  object  as  extended,  that  is,  under 
space-relations,  implying,  as  before,  some  cognition  of  space. 

It  is  not  meant  by  this  that  in  the  process  of  perception 
space  is  perceived  as  a  third  thing,  different  from  self  and  the 
object,  yet  known  by  the  senses.  We  do  not  see,  hear,  smell, 
or  feel  space;  it  is  not  sensible,  but  intelligible,  knowable  by  a 
direct,  inexplicable  act  of  the  intellect.  When  an  object  is 
perceived  at  all  it  is  known  under  this  relation,  a  space-rela- 
tion. 

Nor  is  it  meant  that  the  mind  clearly  distinguishes,  and  says 
to  itself,  "  I  know  this  object  as  in  space,  and  I  know  space;'' 
this  is  the  end  of  mature  reflection,  not  the  beginning  of  per- 
ception. 

The  reason  why  our  perceptions  of  material  objects  are 
thus  conditioned  is  that  the  objects  themselves  exist  under 
space-relations,  and  cannot  exist  in  any  other  way.  It  is  im- 
possible for  us,  while  in  this  semi-material  state  of  being, 
to  conceive  any  other  kind  of  existence,  that  is,  not  under 
space  relations.  We  cannot  imagine  to  ourselves  a  pure  spirit, 
that  is,  one  without  parts  or  distances,  existing  outside  of  all 
space-relations.  Nor  can  we  imagine  space  as  infinite,  but 
when  we  remove  its  boundary  in  thought,  another  forms  itself 
beyond. 

Space  may  thus  be  said  to  be  a  necessary  form  of  all  our 
perceptions,  and  may  even  be  said  to  be  a  form  latent  in  the 
mind,  by  which  it  knows  the  external  world;  for  the  mind 
does  not,  at  first,  consciously  and  explicitly  recognize  space 
as  a  separate  entity,  but  nevertheless  cannot  think  the  material 
world  without  it;  much  as  one  cannot  speak  without  grammar, 
even  though  he  does  not  know  what  the  word  grammar  means. 
The  knowledge  of  space  may  thus  be  said  to  be  a  priori,  in 
the   Kantian  sense,  that  is,  prior  to  experience,  because  it  is 


88  The  Intellect. 

implied  in  the  very  first  experience  of  the  actual  world;  it  is  a 
condition  of  experience,  logically  antecedent,  though  practi- 
cally simultaneous;  the  mind  has  an  aptitude,  a  capacity  for 
knowing  objects  in  this  way,  a  necessary,  innate  power  of  per- 
ceiving things  under  this  form,  and  in  no  other  way,  because 
things  actually  exist  under  this  form  and  in  no  other  way. 

It  has  been  held  by  many  philosophers  th&  space  has  no 
real  existence  by  itself,  but  is  a  mere  relation  among  objects, 
or  a  product  of  the  mind.  Leibnitz  taught  that  space  "  is 
only  the  order  of  things  coexisting,  as  time  is  the  order  of  things 
successive."  Mr.  H.  Spencer,  if  we  understand  him  correctly, 
adopts  the  same  view.  He  says: — "The  idea  of  space  in- 
volves the  idea  of  coexistence,  and  the  idea  of  coexistence  in- 
volves the  idea  of  space."  (Psychology.  II,  201.)  But  space 
cannot  be  the  mere  sum  or  abstract  of  the  relations  of  things, 
or  the  mere  order  of  things,  for  it  is  that  which  makes  all  these 
possible;  "  the  principle,  without  form,  order,  or  relation  in 
itself,  which  makes  possible  an  infinite  number  of  forms,  or- 
ders, and  relations  of  things."     (Lotze,  Dictate  Metaphysik, 

§5i-) 

Kant  taught  that  space  is  ideal,  a  mere  subjective  form  im- 
posed by  the  mind  on  things.  In  this  view;—"  The  idea  of 
space  has  no  objective  validity,  it  is  real  only  relatively  to 
phenomena,  to  things  in  so  far  as  they  appear  out  of  us;  it 
is  purely  ideal  in  50  far  as  things  are  taken  in  themselves,  and 
considered  independently  of  the  forms  of  the  sensibility." 
(Fleming,  Vocabulary  of  Philosophy.) 

Herbart  taught  that  space  is  an  idea,  necessarily  arising  in 
every  mind  from  the  conflict  of  other  ideas.  (Lotze.)  But 
all  ideal  deductions  of  space,  says  Lotze,  "  smuggle  in  the 
specific  quality  of  space  (spatialness,  raumlichkeit)  among  the 
abstract  concepts  out  of  which  they  deduce  it,  though  it  is  the 
very  thing  to  be  deduced. "  (Dictate,  Metaphysik,  §55.) 


Space.  89 

Since  Kant's  time  some  form  of  the  ideal  theory  of  space 
has  been  held  by  nearly  every  German  philosopher.  But  this 
theory  of  what  space  is  in  itself  is  not  a  necessary  result  of 
Kant's  theory  of  the  cognition  of  space.  He  was,  rather, 
forced  into  this  position  by  his  arbitrary  assumption  "that 
there  is  no  correspondence  between  things  as  they  really  are 
and  things  as  they  appear  to  us.  .  ;  .  We  can  admit  the 
positive  portion  of  Kant's  theory,  then,  namely  the  a  priori 
cognition  of  space  and  time,  without  accepting  the  skeptical 
doctrine  which  he  has  needlessly  and  unreasonably  appended 
to  it, — the  doctrine,  that  is,  that  space  and  time  in  themselves 
are  unreal,  and  illusions."     (Bowen,  Modern  Philosophy,  279.) 

The  reality  of  space  and  time  rests  on  the  same  basis  as  all 
the  ultimate  principles  of  knowledge, — namely,  necessity.  We 
cannot  think  of  matter  without  space,  or  events  without  time, 
any  more  than  we  can  think  of  a  plurality  of  objects  without 
number. 

Sir  W.  Hamilton  says  that  Kant  has  demonstrated  the  a 
priori  nature  of  space,  to  the  conviction  of  every  one  capable 
of  understanding  the  subject.  We  accept  this  with  the  limita- 
tions suggested  above.  We  prefer  the  formula  that  space, 
subjectively  considered,  is  a  necessary,  element  in  perception, 
and  objectively  considered  is  a  necessary  condition  of  the  ex- 
istence of  matter. 

Lotze  has  endeavored  to  escape  the  difficulties  of  the  ideal 
theory  by  holding  space  to  be  a  product  of  the  inner  states  of 
things  or  elements.  These  .elements  act  upon  one  another 
and  upon  us  by  virtue  of  their  inner  states;  which  actions 
cause  them  to  be  related  to  one  another  as  though  in  space- 
relations,  and  to  appear  to  us  in  the  same  way.  "  According 
to  the  common  view  space  is,  and  things  are  in  it;  according 
to  ours,  things  are,  and  there  is  nothing  between  them,  but 
space  is  in  them."     (Dictate,  Metaphysik,  §55.)     This  is  evi- 


qo  The  Intellect. 

dently  only  a  refinement  of  Leibnitz's  doctrine  that  space  is 
a  relation  of  matter.  It  also  ascribes  occult,  if  not  super- 
natural, powers  to  the  atoms  of  matter. 

A  real  definition  of  space  is  impossible.  All  the  so-called 
definitions  are  either  synonyms  or  but  partial  descriptions.  If 
we  say  that  space  is  a  condition  of  all  material  existence  as 
extended,  this  is  mere  tautology,  for  u  extended  "  implies  space. 
If  we  leave  out  the  word  "  extended,"  we  have  no  definition 
of  space,  but  a  fact,  perhaps  the  most  important  one,  about 
space.  Space,  like  force,  life,  motion,  is  a  word  which  is  in- 
capable of  further  explication. 

Many  striking  remarks  have  been  made  about  space,  which 
really  do  nothing  toward  defining  it.  Dr.  Clarke  held  that 
space  is  an  attribute  of  the  Deity.  Sir  Isaac  Newton  was 
charged  with  saying  that  space  is  the  sensorium  of  God. 
Lotze  said  that  a  blind  man's  space,  (not  merely  his  knowledge 
of  space),  is  different  from  the  space  of  those  who  can  see. 

A  curious  speculation  has  been  indulged  in  some  quarters, 
that  space  may  have  more  than  three  dimensions,  and  "  m- 
dimensional  space"  has  become  a  not-uncommon  phrase. 
This  theory  evidently  depends  upon  the  doctrine  that  space  is 
ideal.  If  space  is  a  real  thing,  or  even  a  real  relation  between 
real  things,  all  directions  and  distances  can  be  reduced  to  three 
co-ordinates.  Lotze,  though  himself  holding  to  a  modified 
ideal  theory  of  space,  answers  this  notion  of  m-dimensioned 
space  conclusively.  "  The  relations  of  things  which  such 
minds,"  (namely  those  minds  to  which  space  has  more  than 
three  dimensions,)  "  would  perceive,  would  be  entirely  different 
from  those  which  we  observe.  Such  an  intuitive  form  would 
have  no  similarity  to  our  space,  and  it  is  only  by  an  illogical 
play  with  conceptions  that  it  can  be  called  any  kind  of  a  modi- 
fication of  our  space-intuition."     (Dictate,   Naturphil.     §31.) 

The  exposition  of  the  abstract  relations   of   space    consti- 


Space.    .  \\C3  5>t 

\&-  w 

tutes  the  science  of  geometry.     The   discussion  of  " 
lates  of  geometry  belongs  to  metaphysics. 

The  above  doctrine  concerning  space  receives  strong  coni 
tion  from  the  phenomena  of  dreams.  In  dreams  the  percep- 
tions through  which  we  generally  cognize  space  being  absent, 
space-relations  are  wanting  to  our  thoughts.  We  spend  an 
hour  climbing  a  familiar  stair-way,  and  then  suddenly  find  our- 
selves transported  to  a  distant  city,  with  no  sense  of  incon- 
gruity. We  leap  over  a  wall,  but  cannot  step  over  a  gutter. 
The  somnambulist  can  walk  over  roofs  and  cliffs,  because,  his 
sight  being  dormant  he  has  no  perceptions  of  the  depths 
around  him,  and  so  his  equilibrium  is  not  disturbed  by  fear, 
and  he  is  guided  by  the  sense  of  touch.  Blind  persons  often 
exhibit  the  same  strange  security. 

Our  view  of  space,  both  objectively  and  subjectively,  is  also 
confirmed  by  what  is  known  of  the  lower  animals.  They  evi- 
dently have  empirical  knowledge  of  space;  that  is,  they  perceive 
objects  under  space-relations,  and  adjust  their  actions  to  those 
relations.  Yet  they  have  no  intuition  of  its  abstract  relations, 
and  no  power  of  constructing  a  geometry.  The  hare  and  the 
dog  both  know  which  is  gaining  on  the  other,  whether  the 
distance  between  them  is  increasing  or  diminishing,  and  the 
perceived  fact  automatically  produces  eager  impulses  and  in- 
tense exertions.  But  neither  knows  that  a  straight  line  is  the 
shortest  distance  between  two  points,  or  that  velocity  must  be 
measured  in  terms  of  space  and  time;  nor  has  either  any  ca- 
pacity of  acquiring  sucl\  truths.  The  lowest  intelligences, 
however,  which  are  capable  of  perceiving  objects  at  all,  have 
plainly  the  power  of  perceiving  them  under  space-relations. 

"There  is  no  more  mystery,"  says  President  Bascom,  "in 
the  animal's  fitting  his  action  to  spaces  without  distinctly  con- 
sidering them  than  there  is  in  man's  doing  the  same  thing. 
The  apparently  voluntary  movements  of  the  animal  are  as  au- 


92  The  Intellect. 

tomatically  co-ordinated  to  spaces  as  are  its  stages  of  digestion 
to  the  length  of  the  intestinal  canal."  (Comparative  Psychol- 
ogy, 231.)  The  adjustment  of  our  own  actions  to  space-rela- 
tions is  also  to  a  great  extent  automatic,  either  originally  or  by 
long  practice.  When  we  throw  a  stone  or  strike  with  an  axe, 
space-relations  are  necessary  conditions  of  the  action,  and 
some  latent  cognition  of  space  is  implied  in  the  perception- 
concerned.  But  abstract  reasoning  about  space,  or  the  dis 
covery  of  its  abstract  properties,  or  the  description  of  the  cog- 
nition or  intuition  of  space,  are  things  which  only  the  philoso- 
pher has  within  his  reach.  They  are  unintelligible  to  the  unin- 
structed  man,  the  brute  has  no  capacity  even  of  acquiring 
them. 

"These  truths,  instead  of  being  the  first  which  are  con- 
sciously possessed  and  assented  to,  are  the  last  which  are 
reached,  and  by  only  a  few  of  the  race  are  ever  reached  at  all. 
.  .  .  The  mind  must  be  exercised  to  some  extent  in  philo- 
sophical studies  before  it  can  comprehend  their  import  and 
application."  (Porter,  Human  Intellect,  502.) 
II.  Time. 

Time  and  Space  are  usually  spoken  of  together,  and  are  in- 
deed inseparable  in  experience.  We  can  only  measure  each 
by  the  other.  Yet  time,  as  an  element  in  perception,  does  not 
resemble  space  either  in  itself  or  in  the  method  of  our  knowl- 
edge of  it.  Time  has  been  called  the  form  of  our  inner  expe- 
rience, as  space  is  the  form  of  our  outer  experience.  But  it 
is  involved  in  all  our  experiences,  and  especially  in  memory. 
Perception,  as  we  have  seen,  takes  place  by  means  of  discrimi- 
nation, and  discrimination  implies  a  succession  of  impressions 
and  succession  involves  time. 

The  schools  of  philosophy  differ  concerning  time  precisely 
as  they  do  concerning  space.  The  empirical  philosophers 
teach  that  time  is  a  generalization  from  observed  succession  of 


Time.  ,  93 

events.  This  is  true  of  our  empirical  knowledge  of  time;  we 
learn  to  know  a  minute,  a  year,  a  century,  and  in  this  knowl- 
edge time,  space,  and  motion  are  inseparably  connected. 
When  we  say:  "I  can  run  so  many  yards,  or  repeat  so  many 
words  in  a  minute,"  we  mean,  '•  I  can  do  this  while  the  clock- 
pendulum  swings  a  certain  number  of  times,"  or  use  some  sim- 
ilar standard  of  measurement,  thus  comparing  times  with 
motions  and  with  times,  and  the  subjective  succession  with  the 
external  one. 

But  the  possibility  of  knowing  these  successions  as  such, 
and  of  making  these  comparisons,  is  the  very  thing  to  be  ac- 
counted for;  and  we  could  never  perform  these  mental  actions, 
if  we  had  not  some  native  endowment  in  correspondence  or 
congruity  with  the  nature  of  things,  beyond  the  mere  ability  to 
perceive  one  thing  and  then  perceive  another.  To  know  two 
events  in  succession  and  compare  them,  requires  consciousness 
and  memory;  but  memory  is  knowledge  of  the  past,  and  hence 
the  first  act  of  knowledge  involves  some  obscure  knowledge  of 
what  time  is,  or  at  least  some  action  of  the  mind  under  the 
category  or  form  of  time. 

Kant  taught  that  time,  like  space,  is  a  form  which  the  mind 
imposes  on  the  events  which  it  knows,  empirically  valid,  but  in 
itself  an  ideal  existence  only.  The  difficulties  of  this  theory 
have  been  noticed  under  the  head  of  space.  Lotze  attempts 
to  escape  these  by  denying  that  events  are  necessarily  succes- 
sive. He  says  that  our  ideas  (presentations,  vorstellungen)  of 
events  are  necessarily  successive,  and  so  we  get  an  irresistible 
impression  that  the  events  themselves  are  in  succession,  that 
is,  under  the  form  of  time.     (Dictate,  Metaphysik,  §57.) 

But  this  is  only  ingeniously  begging  the  question;  no  reason 
why  events  are  successive  to  us  can  be  assigned,  except  that 
they  are  really  in  succession.     When  we  cognize  a  change  in 

any  object  we  know  it  as  having  a  beginning  and  an  end,  and 

7 


94  The  Intellect. 

the  parts  in  irreversible  order,  so  that  those  which  are  last  can- 
not be  known  as  first.  To  say  that  this  is  a  form  imposed  by 
the  mind,  and  the  events  are  not  really,  perhaps,  in  succession, 
is  entirely  gratuitous. 

Time  has  an  onward  flow,  and  can  never  run  up  stream,  but 
must  always  run  onward.  This  we  know  directly,  and  this  is 
the  intuition  or  a  priori  cognition  of  time.  Our  impression 
that  events,  when  known,  are  real,  and  real  in  the  succession 
as  known,  is  irresistible  and  correct.  Our  estimate  of  the 
proportion  of  comparative  time  may  be  distorted  by  disorder 
of  the  brain,  or  by  defect  of  perception,  as  in  dreams,  but  such 
facts  only  render  plainer  the  fact  that  time  remains  through  all, 
a  real  relation,  an  eternal  reality.  The  contrary  cannot  be 
proved,  but  is  merely  assumed  by  the  ideal  philosophers. 

That  time  is  not  ideal  is  shown  by  the  following  considera- 
tions:— 

i.  We  have  decided  that  space  is  real,  and,  if  so,  time  can- 
not be  ideal.  The  same  arguments  apply  for  the  most  part, 
and  the  connection  of  the  two  is  so  intimate  that  one  alone 
cannot  be  ideal. 

2.  The  same  event  may  be  perceived  by  many  different 
minds,  and  by  them  known  to  be  contemporaneous  with  sub- 
jective experiences  or  with  other  external  events;  and  events 
are  thus  irresistibly  and  necessarily  felt  to  have  a  common 
measure  of  duration,  which  is  capable  also  of  division  and 
comparison,  and  therefore  is  objective. 

3.  Time  is,  indeed,  in  one  sense,  a  form  or  quality  of  the 
irmer  experience  of  the  mind.  But  this  experience  is  condi- 
tioned in  the  main  by  external  events,  and  is  directly  known  to 
be  so.  When  our  experience  is  not  controlled  by  constant  im- 
pressions from  the  outside  world,  but  runs  its  own  course,  as  in 
dreams,  all  proportion  of  time-relations  is  lost,  though  the 
general  intuition  or  concept  of  time  remains.     In  a  dream  we 


Time.  95 

seem  to  be  an  hour  crossing  a  street,  and  no  longer  time  in 
crossing  the  ocean.  De  Quincey,  in  his  opium-reveries,  seemed 
to  live  a  hundred  years  in  an  hour.  A  long  dream  is  often 
interpolated  between  a  sensation  which  awakens  us  and  our 
awakening,  though  to  an  observer  the  awakening  seems  instan- 
taneous. Time  then  must  be  real,  since  the  mind  is  ordinarily 
dominated  by  events  in  this  regard,  and  when  it  is  not  so,  its  ex- 
perience becomes  fantastic  and  irrational. 

4.  Memory,  the  most  inseparable  quality  or  power  of  mind, 
requires  and  implies  time. 

5.  The  lower  animals  exhibit  phenomena  of  the  same  order 
with  reference  to  time,  though  incapable  of  idealism  or  ab- 
straction. A  dog,  if  you  strike  him  several  times  knows  that 
the  blows  are  not  simultaneous.  He  knows  time-relations  in 
physical  events,  and  knows  nothing  about  time  beyond  these. 
"By  no  one  fact,"  says  President  Bascom,  "is  the  intellectual 
progress  of  man  from  the  animal  to  the  rational  plan  of  life 
more  clearly  indicated  than  by  the  length  of  the  periods  he 
takes  into  consideration  in  his  daily  conduct.  It  is  difficult 
to  induce  the  savage  to  put  forth  exertions  which  provide  for 
wants  beyond  those  of  the  hour;  while  the  civilized  man  is  only 
too  much  disposed  to  forecast  the  wants  of  remote  years,  and 
weigh  down  the  present  with  the  work  of  providing  for  them." 
(Comparative  Psychology,  234.) 

Like  space,  time  is  incapable  of  being  defined.  The  defi- 
nitions usually  given  are  tautological  or  incomplete.  If  we 
say; — "  Time  is  that  which  makes  events  possible  as  succes- 
sive," this  is  mere  tautology,  for  succession  is  the  very  thing 
to  be  explained.  If  we  say; — "Time  is  an  idea  or  form  in 
the  mind,"  it  cannot  be  proved  that  it  may  not  be  this  and 
also  something  more.  We  cannot  define  time  or  space  "  be- 
cause the  very  attributes  which  we  must  employ  imply  both. 
.     .     .     Every  object  and  event  has  properties  or  attributes 


96  XHE  Intellect. 

which  imply  the  existence  of  these  entities.  In  knowing  that 
these  objects  exist,  we  know  that  time  and  space  exist  as  their 
actual  conditions."  (Porter,  Hum.  Intellect,  566.) 
,  Aristotle  defined  time  to  be  the  measure  of  motion.  Dr. 
Reid  said; — "  We  may  measure  duration  by  the  succession  of 
thoughts  in  the  mind,  as  we  measure  length  by  feet  and  inches, 
but  the  notion  or  idea  of  duration  must  be  antecedent  to  the 
measurement  of  it,  as  the  notion  of  length  is  antecedent  to 
its  being  measured." 

Dr.  S.  Clarke  said; — "  Space  and  duration  are  immediate 
and  necessary  consequences  of  God's  existence,  and  without 
them  his  eternity  and  ubiquity  would  be  taken  away." 

"  Sir  Isaac  Newton  maintained  that  God,  by  existing,  consti- 
tutes time  and  space."     (Fleming.) 

Schopenhauer  has  with  great  ingenuity  drawn  up  a  list  of 
axioms  showing  the  curious  parallelism  between  space  and  time, 
in  twenty-eight  pairs.  .We  select  a  part  of  them  from  Pro- 
fessor Bowen's  translation.     (Modern  Philosophy,  179.) 

1.  There  is  but  one  time,  and  all  times  are  parts  of  this  one. 
Space,  the  same. 

2.  Time  cannot  be  thought  away,  but  everything  in  time 
can  be  thought  away  or  imagined  as  non-existent.  Space,  the 
same. 

3.  Time  has  three  divisions,  past,  present,  and  future. 
Space  has  three  dimensions,  length,  breadth,  and  thickness. 

4.  The  present  moment  is  without  duration.  The  mathe- 
matical point  is  without  extension. 

5.  Time  makes  arithmetic  possible.  Space  makes  geometry 
possible. 

6.  The  indivisible  (single)  of  arithmetic  is  the  unit.  The 
indivisible  (single)  of  geometry  is  the  mathematical  point. 

7.  Time  has  no  beginning  or  end.  Space  has  no  limits  or 
boundaries. 

8.  Time  has  no  rest.     Space  has  no  motion. 


Causation.  97 

9.  Time  itself  has  no  duration,  but  all  duration  is  in  it. 
Space  has  no  movement,  but  all  movement  is  in  it. 

10.  Movement  is  possible  only  in  time  and  space. 

11.  Time  is  everywhere  present.     Space  is  eternal. 

12.  Time  in  itself  is  empty  or  void,  being  perfectly  inde- 
terminate.    Space,  the  same. 

13.  Time  makes  the  change  of  attributes  possible.  Space 
makes  the  persistence  or  unchangeableness  of  substance  pos- 
sible. 

14.  We  know  the  laws  of  both  a  priori. 

Time  cannot  be  seen,  felt,  or  heard;  it  is  intelligible,  not 
sensible,  is  known  directly,  like  space,  by  an  inexplicable  act  of 
the  intellect. 

III.     Cause. 

When  our  perceptions  are  conditioned  by  our  own  activity, 
not  merely  moving  the  organ  to  receive  the  sensation,  as  in 
sight  and  touch,  but  actually  creating  the  condition  of  the 
sensation  itself,  as  in  the  case  of  muscular  resistance  or  press- 
ure, a  new  element  is  here  introduced;  the  consciousness  in- 
volved is  different  from  what  we  have  previously  discussed. 
When  we  undertake  to  lift,  or  move,  or  compress  any  heavy 
or  hard  object,  we  receive  from  it  muscular  sensations  due  to 
its  weight  or  solidity.  But  we  also  have  a  sense  of  effort  put 
forth,  a  feeling  of  voluntary  power,  quite  different  from  any 
consciousness  involved  in  any  other  class  of  sensations.  And, 
especially  if  we  succeed  in  moving  the  object,  there  is  a  feel- 
ing that  our  voluntary  effort  has  done  something,  has  made  a 
change  in  the  external  world,  has  exhibited  power  of  efficiency, 
in  a  word,  has  become  a  cause.  Cause,  then,  is  a  necessary 
element  in  some  of  our  perceptions. 

But  this  is  not  all.  The  idea  of  causation  necessarily 
and  irresistibly  arises  in  the  mind  on  every  similar  occa. 
sion.     For  example,  if  I  push  a  book  along  my  table,  I  know 


98  The  Intellect. 

that  my  hand  exerts  force,  power,  efficiency,  and  actually 
causes  the  motion  of  the  book.  Now,  suppose  I  roll  a  ball 
along  the  table.  Its  motion  continues  after  the  motion  of  my 
hand  has  ceased;  yet  I  know  intuitively,  that  is,  directly  and 
irresistibly,  that  this  continued  motion  was  caused  by  my  hand. 
Again,  suppose  that  the  rolling  ball  strikes  against  another  ball, 
and  sets  it  in  motion.  In  this  case  also  I  know,  intuitively, 
irresistibly,  that  the  change  of  state  of  the  second  ball  from 
rest  to  motion,  was  caused  by  the  first  ball,  as  the  motion  of 
the  first  ball  was  caused  by  my  hand. 

We  do  not  mean  that  our  knowledge  of  cause  is  derived 
entirely  from  the  case  of  voluntary  activity,  and  then  carried 
over  by  inference  or  analogy  to  other  cases.  This  is  an  error 
to  which  we  shall  refer  later  on.  But  the  case  of  voluntary 
causation  is  easier  to  understand,  because  a  part  of  the  process 
appears  in  consciousness. 

We  affirm  that  in  every  case  where  causation  is  simple 
enough  to  be  readily  traced,  the  conception  of  efficient  cause 
is  equally  a  necessary  element  of  all  such  perceptions.  For 
example,  if  I  see  a  croquet-ball  moved  by  a  blow  from  another 
one,  I  cannot  help  believing  that  the  first  ball  caused  the  mo- 
tion of  the  second.  But  a  good  deal  of  mechanical  knowl- 
edge is  required  to  trace  the  motion  of  a  locomotive  to  the 
chemical  energy  of  combustion;  a  child  or  a  savage  might 
well  suppose  its  motions  voluntary.  Yet  when  any  compli- 
cated machine  is  once  understood,  we  cannot  help  tracing 
causation  through  every  one  of  its  parts. 

"In  our  ordinary  observation,"  says  Lotze,  "it  is  completely 
intuitive  that  a  new  motion  is  produced  by  the  importation  of 
motion  through  a  blow  or  impulse."  (Dictate,  Naturphiloso- 
phie,  §17.) 

We  admit  that  we  cannot  perceive  the  efficient  force  going 
over  from  the  c&use  to  the  object  of  its  activity,  nor  explain 


Causation.  99 

how  it  goes  over.  "The  nature  of  efficiency,"  says  Lotze,  "is 
inexplicable."  We  cannot  hear,  feel,  or  taste  causation,  any 
more  than  we  can  see,  hear,  or  feel  time  or  space;  all  we  per- 
ceive, in  the  plainest  cases,  is  the  cause  in  action,  and  the 
effect.  Causation  is  intelligible,  not  sensible.  But  it  is  not 
for  that  reason  any  the  less  real.  "  The  concept  of  efficiency  " 
[  Wirkeri],  says  Lotze,  "  is  indispensable  to  our*  comprehension 
of  nature  [  Weltauffassung],  and  all  attempts  to  deny  the 
reality  of  efficiency  and  yet  conceive  the  course  of  nature 
[  Weltlauf]  are  abortive."     (Dictate,  Metaphysik,  §46.) 

This  "intuition"  is  irresistible  because  it  is  correct.  This 
"  necessary  element  of  cognition  "  is  a  law  of  the  mind  because 
it  corresponds  to  a  law  of  the  universe;  and  the  mind,  if  it 
knows  the  world  at  all,  must  know  it  as  it  really  is.  Just  as  the 
mind  perceives  objects  under  space-relations  because  they  ex- 
ist under  space-relations. 

A  cause  is  an  efficient  antecedent,  or  an  assemblage  of  such 
antecedents  (for  causes  are  rarely  if  ever  single),  not  simply  an 
inseparable  antecedent. 

But  this  is  not  all.  Not  only  is  causation  real,  but  it  is  uni- 
form. The  same  causes,  under  the  same  circumstances,  always 
produce  the  same  effects.  This  axiom  may  be  considered  as  a 
deduction  from  the  axiom  that  causation  is  real  efficiency,  un- 
der the  operation  of  the  logical  principle  of  identity.  What- 
ever a  thing  is,  that  it  will  of  course  continue  to  be  under  the 
same  circumstances.  Whatever  efficiency,  active  force,  any- 
thing may  have,  that  it  will  of  course  continue  to  have,  under 
the  same  circumstances.  If  we  see  one  ball  pushed  by  another 
we  cannot  help  believing  that  the  first  ball  exerts  actual  power 
on  the  second,  and  that  it  will  continue  to  do  so,  all  things  re- 
maining the  same;  that  if  the  motion  of  the  first  continues, 
the  motion  of  the  second  must  continue  also;  that  if  the  opera- 
tion be  repeated  under  the  same  circumstances,  the  same  re- 
sults will  be  repeated. 


too  Thp:  Intei.lJ'XT. 

This  axiom  is  stated  by  some  writers  as  a  second  "  necessary 
cognition"  or  "intuitive  idea/'  parallel  with  the  first.  Some 
also  make  it  universal,  referring  to  all  events  whatever  Presi- 
dent Porter,  for  example,  says:  "  we  assert  that  the  mind  intui- 
tively believes  that  every  event  is  caused,  that  is,  every  event 
is  produced  by  the  action  of  some  agent  or  agents."  But  he 
directs  his  argument  chiefly  toward  proof  of  the  reality  of  cau- 
sation, and  does  not  keep  the  two  points  rigidly  separate,  but 
sums  up  thus:  "If  it  [causality]  cannot  be  resolved  into  some 
other  relation  equally  general  or  more  general  than  itself,  we 
must  conclude  that  it  is  original,  and  intuitively  discerned 
and  believed."  (Human  Intellect,  572-73.)  This  does  not 
discriminate  between  the  two  axioms. 

It  seems  to  us  a  decisive  objection  to  this  second  axiom  that 
it  is  a  statement  of  a  supposed  general  fact.  According  to 
our  view  of  the  necessary  elements  of  cognition,  the  mind  acts 
under  them  in  connection  with  specific  perceptions  or  thoughts. 
The  mind  knows  space  by  knowing  a  material  object  under 
space-relations,  because  it  cannot  perceive  such  objects  any 
other  way.  But  it  does  not  have  intuitive  knowledge  of  the 
fact  that  all  matter  exists  under  space-relations.  We  afterwards 
infer  that  fact  as  a  ground  of  our  knowledge  of  space-relations. 
So  with  causation;  when  we  perceive  a  simple  case  of  causa- 
tion, we  necessarily  know  that  there  is  efficient  activity  being 
exerted,  and  that  this  will  continue  to  be  exerted  and  will  pro- 
duce the  same  results,  under  the  same  circumstances.  Our 
own  view  is  that  this  is  involved  in  the  "  intuition  "  or  "  neces- 
sary idea "  of  causation  as  a  real,  active,  efficiency;  and  that 
the  universality  of  causation,  or  the  truth  that  every  event  has 
a  cause,  is  an  inference  on  this  basis  from  our  experience. 

Now  it  is  admitted  by  philosophers  of  all  schools  that  our 
belief  in  the  reality  of  causation  is  original  and  irresistible  to 
primitive  thought.     But  many  of  them  have  held  that  this  be- 


Causation.  ioi 

lief,  though  irresistible,  is  fallacious.  The  whole  sensational 
school,  led  by  Hume,  Brown,  Mill,  and  Bain,  declare  that  there 
is  no  more  in  causation  than  we  perceive  by  the  senses;  that 
efficient  causation  is  a  figment  of  the  mind;  that  invariable 
connection  of  antecedent  and  consequent  is  all  that  really  ex- 
ists under  that  name  in  nature. 

"When  a  spark  fails  upon  gunpowder,"  says  Dr.  Brown,  "  and 
kindles  it  into  explosion,  every  one  ascribes  to  the  spark  the 
poiuer  of  kindling  the  inflammable  mass.  Bat  let  any  one  ask 
himself,  what  it  is  which  he  means  by  the  term,  and,  without 
contenting  himself  with"  a  few  phrases  that  signify  nothing, 
reflect,  before  he  gives  his  answer,  and  he  will  find  that  he 
means  nothing  more  than  that,  in  all  similar  circumstances,  the 
explosion  of  gunpowder  will  be  the  immediate  and  uniform 
consequence  of  the  application  of  a  spark."     (Lecture  7,  p.  68.) 

Similar  words  might  be  quoted  from  many  other  writers. 
But  the  common-sense  of  mankind  rejects  the  theory  as  inade- 
quate and  idealistic,  and  will  never  accept  it.  Such  skepticism 
will  always  be  confined  to  philosophers,  and  even  among  them 
it  is  far  from  universal.  Those  who  are  not  driven  by  the  exi- 
gencies of  a  pre-assumed  system,  generally  admit  that  the  human 
mind  is  in  some  kind  of  correspondence  with  the  universe,  so 
that  its  normal  action  with  reference  to  things  must  be  correct. 

The  fact- is  that  Hume,  having  determined  beforehand  to 
account  for  everything  by  experience,  without  any  a  priori  or 
necessary  principles  of  cognition,  and  finding  the  problem  of 
causation  insoluble  on  that  theory,  was  obliged  to  discharge 
cause  of  all  its  real  meaning  in  order  to  bring  it  within  the 
scope  of  his  theory. 

So  Dr.  Brown,  in  the  words  of  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "  professes 
to  explain  the  phenomenon  of  causality,  but,  previous  to  ex- 
planation, he  evacuates  the  phenomenon  of  all  that  desiderates 
explanation."     Their  successors  have  pursued  the  same  easy 


102  The  Intellect. 

method.  But  even  Mr.  Fiske,  the  celebrated  evolutionist,  ad- 
mits that  they  have  gone  too  far. 

"That  matter,  as  objectively  existing,  may  exert  upon  matter 
some  constraining  power,  which,  as  forever  unknowable  by  us, 
may  be  called  an  occulta  vis,  I  readily  grant.  Thought  is  not 
the  measure  of  things,  and  it  was  therefore  unphilosophical  in 
Hume  to  deny  the  existence  of  any  such  unknown  power." 
(Cosmic  Philosophy,  I,  155.) 

Writers  of  this  class,  however,  usually  bring  back  implicitly 
that  which  they  have  explicitly  denied  and  expelled.  For  they 
all  admit  that  the  sequence  of  antecedent  and  consequent  is 
invariable  in  nature,  sp  that  the  course  of  nature  can  be  un- 
derstood and  predicted.  Mr.  Mill  says  in  his  Logic:  "To 
certain  facts,  certain  facts  always  do  and  as  we  believe  always 
will  succeed.  The  invariable  antecedent  is  termed  the  cause, 
the  invariable  consequent  the  effect." 

Now  this  invariability  must  have  a  ground  or  reason,  and  no 
ground  for  it  can  be  conceived  except  reality  of  causation;  all 
attempts  to  find  another  ground  have  failed.  We  shall  refer 
to  some  of  these  attempts  hereafter. 

Having  degraded  "  uniform  causation  "  to  "  uniform  suc- 
cession," these  writers  have  sought  for  another  formula  for  the 
ground  of  induction,  the  final  axiom  of  all  reasoning,  and  have 
found  it  in  the  phrase  "  uniformity  of  nature."  Professor  Bain 
declares  that  the  uniformity  of  nature  is  known  intuitively,  and 
makes  it  the  ultimate  principle  and  postulate  of  all  reasoning. 
Mr.  Mill  derives  it  from  experience,  though  he  makes  it  the 
basis  of  induction.  But  by  thus  leaving  out  causation  from 
the  axiom  of  causation,  they  have  destroyed  its  validity.  The 
complete  uniformity  of  nature  is  by  no  means  intuitively  true. 
"  That  nature  is  uniform  in  her  different  departments  and 
throughout  her  domain  is  by  no  means  an  instinctive  belief. 
As   intelligent   and    scientific,    man    has    reached    particular 


Causation.  103 

uniformities,  as  of  the  seasons,  of  tides,  of  comets,  only  after 
such  induction  as  each  case  seems  to  demand.  This  he  has 
done,  not  on  the  ground  of  uniformity  of  nature,  for  the 
question  in  each  particular  case  was  whether  nature  would  be 
uniform  in  that  case,  but  solely  on  the  ground  of  the  uniform- 
ity of  causation."     (Hopkins,  Outline  Study  of -Man,   169.) 

Mr.  Mill,  perhaps  because  his  candor  and  fairness  enabled 
him  to  see  some  of  the  difficulties  of  this  subject  which  are 
lightly  passed  over  by  others  of  his  school,  seems  to  have 
fallen  into  some  confusion  of  thought.  Mr.  Lewes  mentions  a 
remarkable  instance  of  this.  "That  Mr.  Mill  was  somewhat 
confused  on  this  point,  may  be  seen  in  his  surprising  conclu- 
sion that  the  orbital  movement  of  a  planet  is  not  a  case  of 
causation."  (Problems  of  Life  and  Mind,  II,  340.)  Again, 
Mill  says  in  his  Logic; — "  The  uniformity  in  the  succession  of 
events,  otherwise  called  the  law  of  causation,  must  be  received 
not  as  a  law  of  the  universe,  but  of  that  portion  of  it  only 
which  is  within  the  range  of  our  means  of  sure  observation, 
with  a  reasonable  degree  of  extension  to  adjacent  cases." 
But  the  "  uniformity  of  nature  "  is  a  very  different  thing  from 
the  "law  of  causation."  In  the  words  of  Dr.  McCosh; — 
"  The  grand  metaphysical  question  is  not  about  the  uniformity 
of  nature,  but  about  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect." 

On  the  subjective  side  of  this  theory,  namely  its  method  of 
accounting  for  our  belief  in  causation,  we  find  these  writers 
generally  agreed  in  attributing  it  to  association. 

Hume  bluntly  calls  it  the  result  of  use  and  custom.  Dr. 
Brown  admits  that  there  is  an  "  original  principle  of  our 
nature,"  which  he  calls  "  intuitive  expectation,"  and  that  we 
believe  in  the  causal  connection  of  two  events  if  we  see  them 
occur  together  only  once,  not  merely  from  custom,  but  that  the 
association  is  immediate  and  original. 

Mr.  Mill  derives  the  belief  by  induction,  and  denies  that  it 


104  The  Intellect. 

extends  further  than  induction  carries  it.  "  In  distant  parts  of 
the  stellar  regions,"  he  says,  "  where  the  phenomena  may  be 
entirely  unlike  those  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  it  would  be 
folly  to  affirm  confidently  that  this  general  law  prevails." 
But  he  bases  induction  in  the  last  analysis  on  inseparable  as- 
sociation, and  so  does  not  differ  essentially  from  Hume. 

We  may  perhaps  admit  that  association  and  induction  are 
competent  to  account  for  the  idea  of  causation  as  these  writ- 
ers understand  it,  mere  invariability  of  succession  in  nature, 
without  prejudicing  the  argument  for  real  and  uniform  causa- 
tion. And  it  is  not  always  easy  to  determine  in  which  sense 
the  term  causation  is  used  by  them.  What  they  attempt  to 
account  for  by  association,  however,  is  the  instinctive  belief, 
which  they  declare  to  be  fallacious,  in  the  reality  of  causa- 
tion. 

The  association-theory  on  this  point  is  open  to  a  similar 
objection  with  their  theory  of  space.  It  overlooks  the  most 
important  point,  containing  the  real  thing  to  be  explained, 
that  every  one  of  the  experiences  from  which  they  say  this 
belief  is  derived,  really  implies  its  existence  in  full  force.  If. 
we  see  a  ball  move  after  being  struck  by  another  ball,  the  be- 
lief that  the  first  has  caused  the  motion  of  the  second  and  would 
dq  so  again  in  like  circumstances,  is  just  as  irresistible  on  the 
first  occasion  as  after  a  thousand  repetitions. 

Dr.  Brown,  indeed,  escaped  this  difficulty,  but  since  he  de- 
nied the  reality  of  causation,  he  was  left  in  the  position  of 
affirming  an  intuitive  principle  of  our  nature,  and  yet  denying 
its  validity,  a  contradiction  which  should  lead  to  universal 
skepticism;  for  if  the  very  powers  of  the  mind  are  fallacious, 
all  knowledge  and  all  reasoning  must  be  impossible.  Or 
rather,  it  any  philosopher  declares  that  the  faculties  on  which 
and  with  which  he  has  built  his  system  are  deceptive,  he  can 
claim  no  value  for  the  system. 


Causation.  105 

Causation,  then,  subjectively  considered,  is  a  priori  in  the 
sense  that  it  is  a  power  and  an  irresistible  tendency  in  the 
mind  to  cognize  objective  causation  on  proper  occasion,  as 
real  and  uniform;  a  congruity  in  this  respect  between  the  mind 
and  the  universe. 

"  A  careful  analysis  of  the  causal  judgment,  as  it  is  styled, 
reveals  the  fact  that  it  is  not  a  necessary  inference,  but  a  posi- 
tive affirmation  of  a  fact.  Its  true  test  is  self-evidence,  and 
nothing  but  a  perceived  fact  can  be  self-evident."  (Professor 
Ormond,  Princeton  Rev.,  1882.) 

And  Mr.  Lewes  says; — "  All  believe  irresistibly  in  particular 
acts  of  causation.  Few  believe  in  universal  causation;  and 
those  few  not  till  after  considerable  reflection." 

It  may  also  be  truly  said,  in  a  certain  sense,  that  our  knowl- 
edge of  causation  is  derived  from  experience,  for  it  is  only  in 
and  through  experience  that  we  know  anything  about  it,  and 
when  we  say  that  causation  is  universal  or  that  nature  is  uni- 
form, we  are  generalizing  from  experience. 

We  have  said  that  our  knowledge  of  what  causation  is,  as 
involving  real  efficient  power,  is  derived  from  or  rather  given 
in  our  own  sense  of  voluntary  muscular  exertion.  Some  writ- 
ers, especially  the  Frenchman,  Maine  de  Biran,  have  attempted 
to  show  that  our  belief  in  the  reality,  necessity,  and  uniform- 
ity of  causation,  is  derived  by  inference  and  induction  from 
this  subjective  experience,  that  is,  our  volition.  But  this 
theory  is  open  to  the  following  objections. 

(1)  Induction  itself  must  rest  on  some  axiom  not  derived 
from  experience;  namely,  as  we  shall  show  in  the  proper  place, 
the  axiom  that  causation  is  uniform,  which  is  either  a  part  of 
the  "causal  judgment"  or  an  immediate  deduction  from  it. 
But  the  theory  professes  to  account  for  this  very  axiom  by  in- 
duction. (2)  This  theory,  if  adopted,  is  inevitably  pushed  to 
the  conclusion  that  all  causation   is  spiritual   and  there  are  m> 


io6  The  Intellect. 

material  causes;  that  matter  has  no  inherent  forces:  hence  that 
there  is  but  one  agent  in  the  universe,  the  Creator,  who  causes 
all  events  directly  and  voluntarily, — conclusions  almost  uni- 
versally rejected  by  philosophy  as  well  as  common  sense. 

(3)  Muscular  exertion,  or  "volition,"'  is  a  case  of  physical 
causation,  and  subject  to  the  "  causal  judgment,"  the  "  intui- 
tion "  of  the  reality  and  uniformity  of  causation,  as  much  as 
any  other.  If  I  roll  a  ball  against  another,  and  the  second 
ball  is  moved,  I  have  an  "  intuition  "  or  "  necessary  judgment  " 
that  the  motion  of  the  second  ball  is  caused  by  the  first, 
and  that  the  motion  of  the  first  ball  is  caused  by  my  hand, 
and  that  the  motion  of  my  hand  is  caused  by  myself,  ego; 
how  the  motion  passes  over  through  the  series  is  unknown. 
The  only  difference  between  the  cases  is  that  in  one  the  proc- 
ess is  given  partly  in  consciousness  and  paitly  in  perception, 
in  the  other  it  appears  only  in  perception.  The  spiritual  prin- 
ciple of  volition  or  "  choice,"  has  nothing  to  do  with  either. 
This  runs  up  into  a  higher  realm,  and  introduces  to  us  a  new 
kind  of  causation,  where  the  effect  is  a  spiritual  state  and  the 
cause  an  inexplicable  act  of  personal  will. 

Some  celebrated  theories  concerning  causation  demand  a 
brief  discussion.  Sir  W.  Hamilton  has  discussed  the  theories 
of  causation  with  his  usual  learning  and  vigor.  He  has  made 
a  list  of  eight  possible  theories;  but  as  (according  to  President 
Porter)  the  division  is  more  ingenious  than  correct,  we  do  not 
copy  it.  His  own  doctrine  is  derived  from  that  of  Kant,  and 
is  too  abstruse  to  be  given  fully  here,  but  belongs  rather  to  meta- 
physics. According  to  this  view,  when  an  object  is  presented 
to  us,  we  necessarily  know  it  as  existing,  and  cannot  conceive 
of  it  as  non-existent  in  the  past  or  the  future;  yet  wre  know 
from  experience  that  it  did  have  a  beginning  in  its  present 
form.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  either  the  beginning  or 
annihilation    of  any    part    of    the    complement   of    existence 


Causation.  107 

possessed  by  any  object.  "  But  to  say  that  a  thing  previously 
existed  under  different  forms,  is  only  in  other  words  to  say, 
that  a  thing  had  causes."-  (Metaphysics,  Bowen's  ed.,  554.) 

It  is  evident  that  this  doctrine  of  the  constancy  of  the  sum  of 
existence,  either  in  the  universe  or  in  one  object,  is  a  vast  as- 
sumption. It  is  only  another  form  of  one  of  the  latest  and 
most  sweeping,  not  to  say  most  doubtful,  of  the  inductions  of 
modern  science.     (See  Bowne's  Metaphysics,  107.) 

Again,  this  theory  assumes,  as  Hamilton  expressly  declares, 
two  intuitive  ideas  or  forms  of  thought,  existence  and  time. 
It  also  requires  the  principle  of  the  impotence  of  the  mind, 
and  the  law  of  the  conditioned,  "the  law  that  the  conceivable 
has  always  two  opposite  extremes,  and  that  the  extremes  are 
equally  inconceivable."  If  causation  really  exists  in  nature,  it 
is  far  more  simple  and  natural  to  suppose  that  it  is  intelligible, 
knowable  by  the  human  mind  directly. 

Hamilton's  own  "law  of  parcimony,"  otherwise  known  as 
"Occam's  razor,"  "which  forbids,  without  necessity,  the  multi- 
plication of  entities,  powers,  principles,  or  causes,"  cuts  down 
his  theory  of  causation.  It  is  simpler  to  assume  it  at  once,  as 
a  fourth  necessary  element  in  cognition,  with  being,  time,  and 
space,  than  to  assume  so  much  from  which  to  derive  it. 

The  most  ingenious  attempt  to  explain  away  the  reality  of 
efficient  causation  is  the  monadology  of  Leibnitz.  This  theory, 
indeed,  was  intended  to  explain  also  the  union  of  soul  and 
body,  the  nature  of  animal  and  vegetable  life,  and  all  the  other 
mysteries,  physical  and  theological,  of  the  universe.  A  monad, 
according  to  Leibnitz,  is  one  of  the  ultimate  elements  of  ex- 
istence, either  physical  or  spiritual;  a  supersensual  entity, 
neither  a  pure,  hard  atom,  nor  a  mere  idea,  nor  an  immaterial 
spirit,  but  partaking  of  all  three  natures.  These  monads  were 
created  by  the  Supreme  Power  all  different,  and  each  one  en- 
dowed with  active  force.     "  The   Deity  conferred  upon  his 


108  The  Intellect. 

creatures  from  the  first  a  certain  measure  of  efficiency,  which 
is  the  ultimate  principle  of  all  the  various  phenomena  that  they 
produce."  Hence  the  career  of  each  monad  is  predetermined, 
and  it  pursues  its  own  course  from  the  beginning,  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  exerting  and  receiving  efficient  activity,  but  with- 
out the  reality  of  it. 

Monads,  on  this  theory,  are  of  different  orders,  correspond- 
ing to  different  orders  of  being,  from  a  stone  to  a  human  body 
and  soul.  In  a  crystal,  or  a  plant,  or  an  animal  body,  there  is 
a  governing  monad,  or  one  which  is  said  to  govern,  because 
"all  the  others  act  together  harmoniously,  as  if  they  were 
directed  by  one  central  power."  In  the  lower  orders  sensation 
and  thought  are  latent,  "in  the  human  soul  they  rise  to  full 
consciousness." 

This  strange  mixture  of  physics  and  metaphysics  seems  too 
fantastic  to  be  seriously  offered  as  an  explanation  of  causation 
or  of  the  relation  between  soul  and  body,  and  is  indeed  no 
longer  so  put  forward.  But  it  contains  some  very  remarkable 
anticipations  of  recent  scientific  theories.  It  rests  on  the 
doctrine  of  continuity;  each  monad  pursues  its  career  without 
a  break;  there  can  be  no  leaps  or  sudden  transitions  in  nature. 
"  What  is  called  the  uniformity  of  physical  law  is  never  broken." 
But  this  is  equivalent  to  modern  evolutionism.  Again,  the 
recent  doctrine  of  heat  as  a  mode  of  molecular  motion  pre- 
supposes molecules  like  Leibnitz's  monads,  full  of  spontaneous, 
active  force.  And  Darwin's  "  cell-gemmules "  and  Herbert 
Spencer's  "  physiological  units  "  are  only  Leibnitzian  monads 
of  a  higher  order.  "  They  are  now  held  up  as  the  most  ad- 
vanced results  of  inductive  science,  or,  if  you  will,  as  the  sup- 
posed limits  or  goals,  toward  which  the  sciences  depending  on 
observation  and  analysis  are  tending  and  preparing  the  way. 
But  to  the  eagle-eyed  thought  of  Leibnitz,  they  were  necessary 
deductions  from  the  single  axiom,  first  propounded  by  him  as 


Causation.  109 

dominating  the  universe  of  existing  things,  the  principle  of  suf- 
ficient reason."     (Bowen,  Modern  Philosophy,  118-125.) 

"  Pre-established  Harmony"  is  the  phrase  which  describes 
Leibnitz'    substitute  for  causation. 

Another  celebrated  theory  to  account  for  all  things,  and  es- 
pecially the  interaction  of  bodies  with  one  another,  and  of 
mind  with  matter,  is  that  of  Monism.  This  is  the  doctrine 
that  all  real  being  is  one,  and  all  apparently  separate  entities,  or 
elements,  or  atoms,  are  but  manifestations  of  this  being  "which 
alone  is  self-existent,  and  in  which  all  things  have  their  being. 
.  This  being,  as  fundamental,  we  call  the  infinite,  the 
absolute,  and  the  independent.  In  calling  it  the  infinite  we  do 
not  mean  that  it  excludes  the  co-existence  of  the  finite,  but 
only  that  it  is  the  self-sufficient  source  of  the  finite.  In  call- 
ing it  the  absolute,  we  do  not  exclude  it  from  all  relation,  but 
deny  only  external  restriction  and  determination.  Everything 
else  has  its  cause  and  reason  in  this  being."  (Bowne,  Meta- 
physics, 131.) 

Lotze  (whom  Professor  Bowne  follows  rather  closely),  says 
that  it  is  impossible  consistently  to  conceive  of  interaction  be- 
tween two  elements  which  are  independent  of  one  another, 
self-existent.  "  The  states  of  a  cannot  go  out  to  b,  and  vice 
versa.  ...  If  action  at  all  is  to  be  made  to  seem  pos- 
sible, this  assumption  of  the  self-existence  of  things  must  be 
utterly  denied.  .  .  .  And  this  can  only  be  accomplished 
through  the  assumption  that  all  individual  things  are  substan- 
tially one,  .  .  .  that  they  are  from  the  beginning  modifi- 
cations of  one  single  being,  which  we  provisionally  designate 
by  the  names,  the  Infinite,  the  Absolute.  .  .  .  Action  be- 
tween two  finite  beings  is  thus  only  apparent,  not  real.  In 
reality  the  Absolute  acts  upon  itself."     (Dictate,  Metaph.  §48.) 

This  theory  is  evidently  at  the  opposite  pole  from  that  of 
Leibnitz,  and  incurs  the  danger  of  lapsing  into  pantheism.     In 


no  The  Intellect. 

this  extreme  form  its  most  celebrated  modern  supporters  have 
been  Spinoza,  Schelling,  and  Hegel.  Many,  however,  profess 
to  hold  it  in  a  sense  consistent  with  the  personality  of  God. 

Aristotle  divided  causes  into  four  kinds,  a  distinction  often 
referred  to  in  philosophy,  and  with  which  the  student  should 
be  familiar.  They  are  (i)  material  cause,  or  that  out  of  which 
anything  is  made;  (2)  formal  cause,  or  the  form,  idea,  arche- 
type, or  pattern  of  a  thing;  (3)  efficient  cause,  or  the  principle 
of  change  or  motion  which  produces  the  thing;  (4)  final  cause, 
or  the  end  or  purpose  for  which  a  thing  is  made.     (Fleming.) 

Efficient  cause,  the  third  in  the  order  above,  is  of  course 
that  which  we  have  been  discussing.  The  fourth,  final  cause, 
or  design  in  nature,  must  be  briefly  noticed. 

TELEOLOGY. 

The  doctrine  of  final  causes,  or  design  in  nature,  commonly 
called  Teleology,  has  been  .the  subject  of  much  discussion  in 
recent  years.  Formerly,  nearly  all  philosophers  held  that  the 
adaptations  found  throughout  nature,  by  which  the  parts  of  the 
universe  minister  to  one  another,  working  together  in  a  chain 
of  causation,  are  proof  that  the  scheme  of  things  has  been 
planned  by  intelligence  as  well  as  upheld  by  power. 

"I  had  rather  believe,"  said  Lord  Bacon,  "all  the  fables  in 
the  Legend  and  the  Talmud  and  the  Alcoran,  than  that  this 
universal  frame  is  without  a  mind.  .  .  .  For  while  the 
mind  of  man  looketh  upon  second  causes  scattered,  it  may 
sometimes  rest  in  them,  and  go  no  further;  but  when  it  be- 
holdeth  the  chain  of  them,  confederate  and  linked  together,  it 
must  needs  fly  to  Providence  and  the  Deity."     (Essay  16.) 

In  more  recent  times,  the  progress  of  physical  science,  in- 
troducing the  conceptions  of  law,  uniformity,  development, 
and  evolution,  has  weakened  the  belief  in  design,  and  has  been 
supposed  to  weaken  the  argument  for  it.  Indeed,  some  scien- 
tific men  have  undertaken  a  polemic  against  the  ideological  con- 


Teleology,  i  i  i 

ception,  which  they  have  carried  on  in  a  spirit  that  has  merited 
and  received  the  name  of  "  teleophobia." 

No  doubt  there  have  been  some  crude  ^statements  of  the 
theory  of  design  in  nature.  Sometimes  the  whole  universe 
has  been  subordinated  to  human  interests,  and  sometimes  a 
specific  purpose  has  been  assumed,  such  as  a  mere  display  of 
power,  or  the  pleasure  of  the  Creator,  in  creative  action.  But 
"it  is  especially  necessary  that  those  who  oppose  teleology 
should  deal  with  its  scientific  [well-reasoned]  forms,  and  should 
not  waste  their  attacks  upon  forms  which  have  never  kept  up 
with  the  advance  of  the  investigation."     (Euken.) 

A  correct  statement  of  the  doctrine  of.  design  is  not  at  all 
affected  by  the  progress  of  science,  the  extension  of  the  realm 
of  causation,  or  the  hypothesis  of  evolution.  But  rather,  the 
more  all  natural  events  are  seen  to  be  joined  together  in  a 
single  scheme,  the  more  wonderful  does  that  scheme  become, 
and  the  more  the  mind  "  must  needs  fly  to  Providence  and 
the  Deity."  The  old  view  of  nature  saw  in  it  a  number  of 
separate  kingdoms,  and  a  series  of  separate  creations.  The 
modern  view,  after  extending  the  boundaries  of  each  one  of 
these  kingdoms  almost  indefinitely,  joins  them  all  in  a  vast 
unity.  But  the  vastness  of  this  unity,  does  not,  as  some  seem 
to  suppose,  make  it  self-existent,  without  an  intelligent  design 
or  Cause;  nor  does  this  remove  it  from  human  thought  any 
further  than   before. 

Teleology  has  nothing  to  do  with  efficient  causation,  but 
belongs  to  a  higher  sphere  of  thought.  The  positive  argu. 
ment  for  design  in  nature,  as  for  the  existence  of  an  intelli- 
gent, personal  Creator,  belongs  to  Natural  Theology. 


ii2  The  Intellect. 

IV.     Identity  and  Similarity. 

The  fact  was  mentioned  in  introducing  the  subject  of  sen- 
sation that  the  activity  of  the  mind  in  sensation  is  a  discrimi- 
nating one.  The  very  process  by  which  an  impression  be- 
comes known  to  the  mind,  that  is,  becomes  a  sensation  in  the 
full  sense  of  the  word,  is  a  change  in  consciousness,  in  other 
words  a  conscious  change  in  the  sentinent  organism.  But 
this  implies  two  states,  not  identical  but  different,  and  either 
similar  or  dissimilar;  involving  not  only  an  impression  occa- 
sioned by  some  object,  but  a  knowledge  of  something  about 
that  impression. 

"  We  know  that  if  the  idea  of  red  and  at  the  same  time  the 
idea  of  blue  are  excited  in  the  mind,  the  two  do  not  combine 
to  form  the  idea  of  violet.  .  .  .  Every  comparison,  es- 
pecially every  relation  between  two  elements,  presupposes  that 
both  points  of  relation  remain  separate,  and  that  a  represent- 
ing activity  passes  from  one  to  the  other,  and  the  mind  be- 
comes conscious  of  the  change  which  it  experiences  from  the 
idea  of  a  tothatof  b.  We  do  this  when  we  compare  red  with  blue, 
and  there  arises  the  new  idea  of  qualitative  similarity  which 
we  ascribe  to  both.  If  we  see  at  the  same  time  a  strong  light 
and  a  weak  one,  we  do  not  have  the  sensation  of  a  single  light 
which  is  the  sum  of  both;  but  both  remain  separate,  and, 
passing  from  one  to  the  other,  we  are  conscious  of  another 
change  of  state,  a  quantitative  more-or-less  of  the  same  im- 
pression. 

"  Finally,  if  two  oxactly  similar  impressions  are  separately 
made  upon  us,  they  do  not  blend  into  a  third;  but  because  we 
compare  them  as  before  and  in  the  transition  from  one  to  the 
other  find  no  change  of  state,  there  arises  in  us  the  new  idea 
of  identity. 

"  These  new  ideas  which  we  may  consider  as  of  a  higher  or- 


Identity  and  Similarity.  ii, 

der,  are  by  no  means  resultants  of  the  interaction  of  the  origi- 
nal simple  ideas,  as  in  mechanics  a  third  motion  is  com- 
pounded of  two  others.  The  first  ideas,  as  mere  impulses, 
arouse  in  the  mind  a  reaction,  through  which  arise  the  new 
ideas  ©f  similarity,  identity,  and  their  opposites."  (Lotze, 
Dictate,  Psychologie,  §21-22.) 

These  two  principles,  identity  with  its  inseparable  correla- 
tive diversity,  and  similarity  with  its  inseparable  correlative 
dissimilarity,  are  necessary  forms  of  all  knowledge,  in  its  most 
rudimentary  form  of  simple  sensation,  or  the  elaborately  com- 
bined and  associated  form  of  acquired  perception.  "  Saying 
what  a  thing  is,  is  saying  what  it  is  like,  what  class  it  belongs 
to."     (H.  Spencer,  Psychology,  II,  131.) 

Simple  perception  may  know  an  object  as  distinct  from 
self,  as  having  real  being,  and  as  existing  under  space-relations. 
But  complete  perception  knows  an  object  as  the  same  or  dif- 
ferent, similar  or  dissimilar  with  others;  recognizes  it  as  be- 
longing to  a  new  class,  or  as  a  new  object  hitherto  unknown. 

This  is  often  called  the  relativity  of  knowledge,  a  phrase 
which  is  used,  however,  in  a  great  variety  of  meanings. 
Mr.  Mill  means  by  it  the  doctrine,  "  that  we  only  know  any- 
thing as  distinguished  from  something  else;  that  two  objects 
are  the  smallest  number  required  to  constitute  consciousness; 
that  a  thing  is  only  seen  to  be  what  it  is  by  contrast  with  what 
it  is  not."  But  we  hold  it  self-evident  that  the  mind  can  per- 
ceive one  object  alone,  distinguished  only  from  the  ego. 

Sometimes  the  relativity  of  knowledge  means  the  doctrine 
that  we  can  only  know  objects  so  far  as  they  are  related  to  our 
faculties,  and  so  far  as  we  have  faculties  of  knowledge.  This 
no  one  will  deny,  but  it  should  be  called,  as  Dr.  McCosh  sug- 
gests, "the  limited  knowledge  of  man,"  not  "relativity." 

Sir  W.  Hamilton  applies  this  name  to  the  Kantian  doc- 
trine that  we  can  never  know  the  ultimate  reality  of  things, 


ii4  The  Intellect. 

the  thing-in-itself,  but  only  phenomena,  which  phenomena  may, 
for  all  we  know,  be  partly  due  to  the  action  of  our  minds. 
This  is  sheer  assumption.  The  thing-in-itself,  apart  from  its 
phenomena  or  attributes,  is  not  only  unknowable  but  impossi- 
ble. We  do  know  the  true  reality  of  an  object,  through 
its  qualities,  so  far  as  we  know  it  at  all.  Again,  "  To  suppose 
that  in  perception  or  cognition  proper  we  mix  elements  de- 
rived from  our  subjective  stores,  is  to  unsettle  our  whole  con- 
victions as  to  the  reality  of  things.  By  assuming  this  middle 
place  between  Reid  and  Kant,  this  last  of  the  great  Scottish 
metaphysicians  has  been  exposed  to  the  fire  of  the  opposing 
camps  of  idealism  and  realism."  (McCosh,  Defence  of 
Fundamental  Truth  234.) 

The  last-mentioned  meaning  of ''relativity  of  knowledge"  is 
probably  the  most  common  one,  and  the  most  appropriate.  But 
some  writers  confuse  this  meaning  with  the  one  first  mentioned, 
and  it  would  be  well  if  so  ambiguous  a  phrase  could  be  ban- 
ished from  philosophy. 

Many  writers  also  confuse  the  application  of  the  principles 
of  identity  and  similarity  to  sensation,  as  being  a  change  of 
consciousness,  and  their  application  to  perception,  as  a  cogni- 
tion of  an  object  that  is  different  from  self,  and  similar  or  dis- 
similar with  other  objects.  The  distinction  is  a  clear  one  and 
is  worth  making. 

These  principles  are  necessary  laws  of  intelligence,  so  far  as 
we  can  know  anything  about  intelligence  in  our  present  state  of 
being.  Accordingly  we  find  that  the  minds  of  the  lower  ani- 
mals act  under  the  same  conditions.  If  you  strike  a  dog 
several  blows,  he  knows  that  they  are  not  all  one  and  the  same 
blow.  There  are  involved  here,  then,  time,  number,  and 
identity-diversity.  If  the  dog  sees  you  or  any  one  else  pick 
up  a  similar  stick  on  another  occasion,  he  knows  this  stick  is 
like  the  other  one,  and  expects  the  like  pain,  which  he  runs 


Identity  and  Similarity.  115 

away  to  avoid.  His  knowledge  may  be  merely  association, 
but  it  involves  the  principles  of  similarity  and  of  self,*  just  as 
truly  as  the  feelings  of  pain,  fear,  and  hatred. 

In  short,  all  sensations  and  perceptions  which  take  place  in 
a  material  organism  and  give  knowledge  of  material  things, 
take  place  under  the  relations  of  identity-diversity  or  similar- 
ity-difference; which,  therefore,  viewed  in  connection  with 
the  mind,  may  be  called  categories,  or  a  priori  concepts,  or 
intuitive  ideas;  and  viewed  in  connection  with  things  may  be 
called  relations.  (The  word  relation,  however,  is  often  used 
in  a  quite  different  meaning,  as  when  gravity  is  said  to  be  a 
"relation"  between  two  bodies.)  .Not  conditions  of  the  ex- 
istence of  things,  but  conditions  of  things  as  related  to  us. 
We  call  them,  with  space,  time,  and  cause,  necessary  elements 
of  cognition,  but  do  not  assign  precisely  the  same  origin  or 
scope  to  each. 

Professor  Bain  has  founded  his  entire  system  on  these  prin- 
ciples. "The  primary  attributes  of  intellect  are  (1)  conscious- 
ness of  difference,  (2)  consciousness  of  agreement,  and  (3)  re- 
tentiveness.  Every  properly  intellectual  function  involves  one 
or  more  of  these  attributes  and  nothing  else."  (Mental  Science, 
82).  He  elsewhere  defines  agreement  by  similarity,  and  uses 
the  term  identity,  while  he  develops  "  retentiveness,"  into  the 
power  of  association.  He  strives,  with  great  ingenuity,  to  show 
how,  with  these,  the  whole  structure  of  knowledge  is  built  up. 

We  have  seen  reason  to  believe  that  he  has  but  little  success 
in  accounting  for  space,  time,  or  cause,  as  subjective  principles. 
But  it  is  especially  to  be  remarked  as  an  important  inconsist- 
ency in  this  scheme,  that  it  re^ly  assumes-  original  and  neces- 
sary principles  just  as  truly  as  the  opposite  theory,  which  Bain 
so  vigorously  combats.  The  only  difference  is  that  it  does  not 
assume  so  many  of  them. 

The  question  in  what  identity  consists,  has  received  a  good 


u6  The  Intellect. 

deal  of  attention.  Different  kinds  of  identity  have  been  dis- 
tinguished; as  identity  of  a  stone  or  any  inorganic  substance,  of 
a  tree,  an  animal,  of  a  person.  It  is  plain  that  identity  of  an 
organized  being  cannot  consist  in  absolute  sameness  of  mate- 
rial particles,  for  these  are  constantly  changing;  besides,  a  tree 
may  lose  many  of  its  branches  and  leaves,  and  yet  be  the  same 
tree,  and  a  man  who  has  lost  an  arm  or  a  leg  is  still  the  same 
man. 

John  Locke  held  that  identity  in  plants  and  animals  consists 
in  continuance  of  the  same  organization,  and  that  life  consists 
in  that  organization  in  which  all  the  parts  minister  to  one 
another.  (Essay,  Bk.  II.  C.  27,  §4.)  This  comes  very  near 
to  the  modern  doctrine  that  "  the  phenomena  of  living  bodies 
can  be  explained  by  the  mechanical  and  chemical  forces  be- 
longing to  matter."  It  also  approaches  the  modern  definition 
of  an  organism  as  "a  structure  in  which  all  the  parts  are  mut- 
ually means  and  ends." 

Personal  identity  is  still  more  difficult  of  definition.  Con- 
sciousness, in  connection  with  memory,  testifies  to  the  reality 
of  personal  identity,  and  declares  that  the  subject  of  past  ex- 
periences is  the  same  with  the  subject  of  present  memory  and 
present  experience.  "As  the  knowledge  of  personality  is 
given  in  consciousness,  that  of  personal  identity  is  secured  by 
the  aid  of  memory."     (Calderwood.) 

Locke  makes  personal  identity  to  consist  in  consciousness. 
But  this  is  insufficient,  as  is  shown  by  the  extravagances  into 
which  he  is  led  by  it.  For  he  says:  "It  must  be  allowed  that 
if  the  same  consciousness  can  be  translated  from  one  thinking 
substance  to  another,  it  will  rjei possible  that  two  thinking  sub- 
stances may  make  but  one  person."  .  .  "  But  if  it  be 
possible  for  the  same  man  to  have  distinct,  incommunicable 
consciousness  at  different  times,  it  is  past  doubt  that  the  same 
man  would  at  different  times  make  different  persons."     He 


Necessary  Elements  of  Cognition.  117 

also  argues  that  if  we  suppose  two  distinct  consciousnesses 
acting  in  the  same  body,  one  by  night  the  other  by  day, 
the  day-man  and  the  night-man  would  be  two  as  distinct  per- 
sons as  Socrates  and  Plato,     (Essay,  Bk.  II,  C.  27,  §23.) 

The  fact  is,  everybody  knows  by  his  own  experience  what  is 
meant  by  identity,  though  nobody  can  define  it  or  say  exactly 
in  what  it  consists. 

The  relation  of  Similarity  is  capable  of  analysis,  and  has 
been  divided  by  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  and  provided  with  a 
characteristic  nomenclature.  His  disciple,  Mr.  John  Fiske, 
states  it  as  follows.  Similarity  and  dissimilarity  are  divided 
into:  (1)  "cointertsion  and  non-cointension,  as  when  we  per- 
ceive that  two  sounds  are  equal  in  degree  of  loudness,"  or  that 
two  temperatures  are  different;  (2)  "co-extension"  and  non- 
co-extension,  as  when  "  the  color  of  an  orange  is  recognized  as 
accompanied  "  by  sweetness  and  not  by  viscidity; "  (3)  "  con- 
nature  and  non-connature,  as  when  greater  warmth  is  mentally 
assimilated  to  less  warmth,  but  distinguished  from  blueness  or 
roughness."  (Cosmic  Philosophy,  II,  118.) 

General    Remarks    on    the    Necessary    Elements    of 
Cognition. 

Next  to  the  theory  of  vision,  that  department  of  psychology 
which  has  made  the  greatest  progress  is  this,  the  doctrine  of 
"a  priori  concepts,"  "intuitive  ideas,"  or,  as  we  prefer  to  call 
them,  necessary  elements  of  cognition.  It  is  also  to  be  noted 
that  this  is  the  border-land  between  psychology  and  metaphy: 
sics. 

The  doctrine  of  "intuitive  ideas"  was  vigorously  assailed  by 
John  Locke.  But  the  mode  of  the  attack,  and  also  of  the  de- 
fence, shows  how  ill-reasoned,  vague,  and  incorrect  were  some 
modes  of  thought  current  at  that  time,  and,  indeed,  not  wholly 
unknown  even  at  the  present  day. 


n8  The  Intellect. 

One  of  the  so-called  intuitive  truths  on  which  Locke  spends 
his  strength  most  freely,  is  the  fact  that  a  thing  cannot  be  and 
not  be  at  the  same  time.  To  the  modern  reader  this  proposi- 
tion, however  true,  seems  of  a  very  different  rank.  For  it  is 
plainly  a  logical  rule,  amounting  to  this,  that  contradictory  at- 
tributes are  not  to  be  predicated  of  the  same  subject.  Locke 
proves  that  the  rule  does  not  exist  consciously  and  formally  in 
the  mind  of  the  ignorant,  the  child,  or  any  but  a  philosopher; 
which  is  not  at  all  the  same  thing  as  proving  that  they  do  not 
think  under  the  rule,  when  they  think  correctly. 

The  argument  for  the  a  priori  cognition  of  space,  time,  and 
cause,  as  at  present  understood,  is  not  affected  by  Locke's  rea- 
soning. He  himself,  moreover,  in  the  positive,  constructive, 
part  of  his  Essay,  tacitly  assumes  principles  of  thought  which 
are  called  a  priori  or  intuitive  by  more  modern  and  more  sys- 
tematic writers. 

Locke's  polemic  was  of  vast  importance  in  philosophy,  and 
was  in  a  sense  completely  successful.  But,  far  from  settling 
the  question,  it  led  the  way  to  better  definitions,  more  careful 
thought,  and  deeper  study.  The  two  schools  still  keep  up  their 
traditional  opposition,  but  each  has  partly  shifted  to  the  other's 
ground,  and  sensationalism  must  be  said  to  have  lost  the  battle. 

The  more  recent  empirical  philosophers,  who  consider  them- 
selves the  special  followers  of  Locke,  have  attempted  to  ac- 
count for  space,  time,  and  cause,  subjectively  considered,  with- 
out admitting  any  necessary  or  a  priori  elements  of  cognition. 
We  have  already  examined  this  attempt  in  connection  with  the 
subjects  of  causation  and  space. 

It  is  important  to  notice  that  writers  of  this  school,  while 
denying  intuitive  ideas,  yet  rely  upon  some  principles  of 
thought  which  are  really  of  the  same  order.  Professor  Bain 
not  only,  as  we  have  seen,  admits  a  knowledge  of  identity  and 
similarity  as  original  to  the  mind,  but  also  declares  that  the 


Necessary  Elements  of  Cognition.  119 

uniformity  of  nature  is  an  innate  principle.  "  We  can  give  no 
reason,  or  evidence,  for  this  uniformity,  and,  therefore,  the 
course  seems  to  be  to  adopt  this  as  the  finishing  postulate. 
And  undoubtedly,  there  is  no  other  issue  possible."  (Logic, 
671.) 

Mr.  Mill  cannot  perhaps  be  quoted  so  specifically  to  the 
same  effect;  but  in  his  Logic  his  statements  are  often  qualified 
by  such  phrases  as  "it  is  more  rational  to  suppose,"  and  "  with 
a  reasonable  degree  of  extension  to  other  cases."  And  "  the 
observant  student  notices  that  in  the  most  important  portions 
of  his  discussions  he  is  ever  and  anon  introducing,  with  a 
naive  innocency  of  bearing,  at  once  refreshing  and  irritating, 
under  the  names  of  '  belief,'  '  persuasion,'  '  natural  prompt- 
ing,' and  the  like,  the  very  a  priori,  universal,  organic,  rational, 
and  recreative  element,  which  he  would  exclude,  and  which  he 
then  seeks  to  make  it  appear  that  he  has  deduced,  either 
strictly,  or,  in  his  phrase,  (a  strange  phrase  for  a  logician  to 
employ)  '  as  far  as  any  human  purpose  requires,'  from  pure 
observation  and  '  objective,'  physico-psychological  '  experi- 
ence.'"     (Morris,  British  Thought  and  Thinkers,  325.) 

Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  recognizes  the  impossibility  of  ac- 
counting for  these  principles  by  association  alone,  and  ad- 
vances the  theory  that  they  are  the  product  of  association  and 
inheritance  combined.  This  has  been  called  the  "  psycho- 
genetical  hypothesis,"  by  Mr.  Lewes  who  speaks  of  "inherited 
intuitions,"  and  'w  laws  of  thought  registered  in  modifications 
of  structure  which  have  been  transmitted  from  parent  to  child." 
But  this  theory  does  not  escape  the  chief  difficulty  of  the 
theory  of  association  pure  and  simple.  It  only  gives  a  longer 
time  for  association  to  work  in,  and  does  not  at  all  show  how 
it  can  have  any  power  at  any  time  to  evolve  a  necessary  prin- 
ciple of  thought  What  is  to  be  accounted  for  is  not  the  con- 
crete knowledge  of  space,  time,  cause,  etc.,  but  the  fact   that 


120  The  Intellect. 

the  mind  cannot  help  acting  under  these  forms  and  categories 
in  perception  and  thought,  even  in  the  lowest  stages  of  mental 
life. 

"  In  the  contest  over  this  concept,  the  question  is  not  about 
something  known  previous  to  experience.  .  .  .  Just  as 
little  do  we  dispute  about  a  something  ready-made  in  the 
mind,  for  we  recognize  here  only  a  striving  activity.  .  .  . 
But  we  discuss  as  the  main  question,  not  only  of  philosophy, 
but  of  all  science,  and  of  psychology  especially,  the  fact  that 
in  mental  activity  something  essential,  original,  and  legitimate 
is  recognized.  It  shows  that  one  is  behind  the  times  in  his 
knowledge  of  modern  philosophy,  if  he  presents  the  dilemma 
whether  knowledge  is  furnished  ready-made  in  the  mind  or 
is  created  from  without,  for  he  thus  leaves  out  of  considera- 
tion the  question  to  the  development  and  defence  of  which  the 
most  prominent  thinkers  of  the  last  century  have  devoted  their 
strength."     (Euken,  Fundamental  Concepts,  translation,  90.) 

Association  can  do  nothing  to  account  for  these  principles 
of  cognition,  thus  received  and  defined,  even  though  it  be 
prolonged  backward  through  the  endless  ages  of  evolution. 
The  limits  of  association  were  tacitly  admitted  by  Mr.  Mill 
when  he  admitted  that  on  that  basis  two  and  two  might  possi- 
bly equal  five. 

In  short,  there  is  no  safe  ground  "between  the  bold  sensa- 
tional theory  of  Condillac,  which  resolved  all  states  of  the 
mind  into  sensations  by  simply  calling  them  such,  and  a  rea- 
sonable recognition  of  a  necessary  element  in  thought  and 
perception;  "  for  Hume  did  certainly  show  that  a  consistent 
empiricism  must  become  sensational,  and  Kant,  that  experience, 
in  Locke's  sense,  involves  a  multitude  of  a  priori  elements." 
(Bowne,  Metaphysics,  508.) 

On  the  other  hand,  the  so-called  a  priori  school  have  greatly 
changed  their  ground  since  the  time  of  Locke,  made  impor- 


Necessary  Elements  of  Cognition.  121 

tant  concessions  and  introduced  valuable  distinctions.  The 
more  recent  method  is  thus  expressed  by  President  Porter. 
"  While  these  truths  stand  first  in  the  order  of  thought,  they 
are  last  to  be  reached  in  the  order  of  time.  This  'implies  that 
we  are,  in  some  sense,  indebted  to  experience  for  their  ac- 
quisition. It  is  equally  clear  that  experience  does  not  give 
them  authority."  (Human  Intellect,  504.)  First  uncon- 
sciously but  necessarily  used  in  concrete  perception  and  thought* 
they  are  afterwards  abstracted  and  generalized  into  laws  or 
principles. 

It  was  formerly  the  custom  (and  some  traces  of  the  custom  still 
remain),  to  treat  these  principles  all  in  a  lump,  assuming  that 
they  are  all  alike  in  origin  and  nature.  We  have  shown  above 
how,  in  our  opinion  they  should  be  treated  each  by  itself.  We 
append  a  table  of  these  principles,  with  the  connection  in 
which  each  is  first  exercised  and  known. 

1.  Being,  or  substance,  or  real  existence; — Through  any 
perception  that  gives  knowledge  of  the  external  world.  We 
spoke  of  this  under  the  Qualities  of  Matter. 

2.  Self; — Through  any  mental  activity.  We  spoke  of  this 
under  Consciousness. 

3.  Space; — Through  any  real  perception  involving  voluntary 
exertion. 

4.  Time; — Through  the  series  of  states  of  consciousness. 

5.  Cause; — Through  resistance'  and  the  perception  of  ac- 
tion. 

6.  Identity  and  similarity  are  relations  conditional  to  all 
knowledge. 

Of  the  others  .which  are  frequently  enumerated,  number 
and  quantity  need  no  exposition,  and  are  merely  relations  of 
objects;  right  belongs  to  ethics;  the  infinite  and  the  absolute 
to  metaphysics;  the  idea  of  God  to  theology;  the  idea  of 
beauty  to  esthetics. 


122  The  Intellect. 

It  will  have  been  noticed  that  we  are  not  satisfied  with  the 
usual  names  applied  to  these  principles.  The  term  "intui- 
tion "  is  objectionable  because  it  has  come  to  have  a  vague 
and  semi-mysterious  implication,  as  though  intuition  were  a 
short  road  to  knowledge,  a  superhuman  way  of  attaining  to 
truth.  It  is  true,  however,  that  the  real  meaning  of  the  word 
intuition  is  not  open  to  the  same  objections.  It  means,  "  im- 
mediate knowledge,  direct  perceiving  or  beholding  of  an  ob- 
ject or  principle  "  (Calderwood);  "  the  immediate  affirmation 
by  the  intellect,  that  the  predicate  does  or  does  not  pertain  to 
the  subject,  in  what  are  called  self-evident  propositions." 
(Hamilton.)  The  corresponding  German  word  (Anschauung) 
is  constantly  used,  since  Kant,  to  denote  perception  under  the 
forms  of  time  and  space.  "  Intuition,"  therefore,  is  a  word 
liable  to  misunderstanding  at  best. 

The  term  "a  priori  concept"  has  some  evident  advantages; 
but  these  principles  are  active  in  cognition  long  before  they 
become  concepts  at  all,  which,  indeed,  they  need  not  do  to  be 
useful,  but  only  to  become  authenticated.  The  term  "idea" 
is  too  vague  and  uncertain  for  use  in  philosophy,  and  has  never 
recovered  from  being  overworked  by  John  Locke. 

The  term  "  principle"  is  perhaps  without  serious  objection; 
but  the  phrase  "necessary  element"  seems  to  suit  better  our 
view  that  the  mind  operates  under  certain  conditions,  some  of 
wmich  are  imposed  upon  it  by  its  intimate  connection  with  a 
physical  organism,  some  by  the  nature  of  the  objects  of  its 
knowledge,  and  some  by  the  nature  of  all  thought. 

Sir  W.  Hamilton  has  enumerated  no  less  than  twenty-three' 
different  names  which  have  been  applied  to  these  principles 
by  different  writers. 

IS    THERE   A    "REGULATIVE    FACULTY?" 

Since  the  time  of  Coleridge  it  has  been  common  among 
English  writers  to  use  the  name  of  Reason  for  a  supposed 


Necessary  Elements  oe  Cognition.  123 

faculty  of  producing  "intuitive  ideas."  Sir  W.  Hamilton  em- 
ployed the  term  Regulative  Faculty. 

If  our  analysis  has  been  correct,  this  theory  of  a  special 
faculty  is  untenable  and  unnecessary.  The  mind  in  each  of  its 
kinds  of  activity  must  act  under  certain  conditions,  and  must 
evolve  whatever  products  the  conditions  and  objects  of  its  ac- 
tivity require.  When  the  mind  knows  an  external  object,  it 
knows  it  in  space,  and  cannot  know  it  otherwise.  There  is  no 
need  of  a  special  faculty  to  produce  the  space,  nor  is  space  a 
product  of  the  mind,  but  a  necessary  condition  of  material 
existence,  and  hence  inseparable  from  preception.  So  the 
mind  when  it  judges,  must  judge  according  to  the  relations  of 
identity  and  similarity,  and  can  judge  in  no  other  way,  for 
these  are  conditions  of  all  judgment. 

To  find  out  what  these  principles  are,  and  distinguish  them, 
and  show  their  universality,  is  the  work  of  generalization  and 
analysis,  exercising  the  various  other  powers  of  the  mind. 

If  any  one  affirms  that  he  is  conscious  of  forming  these 
ideas  or  applying  them  by  a  special  faculty,  we  can  only  say 
that  we  can  detect  no  such  power  in  ourselves,  and,  according 
to  our  theory,  it  is  unnecessary. 

CRITERIA    OF    FIRST    PRINCIPLES. 

We  need  some  standard  or  rule  of  judgment  by  which  to 
decide  what  principles  are  entitled  to  places  on  our  list.  It 
has  already  been  intimated  that  the  chief  criterion  is  necessity. 
The  intellect  is  "  constrained  by  the  spontaneous  workings  of 
its  nature  to  receive  them  as  true."  (Porter.)  It  is  not  meant  by 
this  that  their  reality  and  validity  are  never  denied  in  terms, 
but  that  those  who  deny  them  and  try  to  disprove  them,  make 
use  of  them  in  the  very  process  of  their  reasoning.  Nor  are 
these  principles  used  only  by  philosophers.  As  all  who  speak 
at  all  must  speak  according  to  some  kind  of  grammatical  rules, 
even  though  they  do  not  know  what  grammar   means,  so  all 


124  The  Intellect. 

who  think  or  perceive  must  do  so  under  the  forms,  laws,  or 
categories  appropriate  to  each  act,  whether  they  can  or  cannot 
define  and  describe  them.  Few  reach  that  speculative  stage 
where  these  principles  become  definite,  generalized  concepts, 
and  most  who  do  so  are  pledged  to  one  school  or  another  long 
before  reaching  so  advanced  a° stage  of  thought.  But  "we  are 
justified  in  appealing  from  the  philosophy  of  men  to  their 
words  and  actions.  What  all  men  inadvertently  confess  in 
their  casual  assertions,  what  they  imply  in  the  very  form  of 
their  language,     .  .     what  is  assumed  in  all  investigations 

and  reasonings  without  the  attempt  to  give  any  reasons  for  its 
truth, — these  are  all  taken  [by  us]  to  be  or  to  involve  univer- 
sal and  necessary  truths  of  Intuition,  however  difficult  it  may 
be  to  define  them  correctly,  to  reconcile  them  with  the  dicta  of 
a  received  philosophy,  or  to  show  their  place  in  any  order  of 
systematic  arrangement."  (Porter,  Hum.  Intel.  510.)  We 
have  applied  this  method  of  reasoning,  to  some  extent,  to  the 
doctrines  of  Mr.  Mill  and  Professor  Bain. 

We  have  attempted  to  show  in  discussing  each  of  these 
principles  that  it  is  a  necessary  principle,  and  we  judge  that  to 
be  the  only  and  sufficient  criterion.  Many  writers,  however, 
have  laid  down  three  or  more  criteria.  President  Porter  gives 
three,  universality,  necessity,  and  logical  dependence  and  origi- 
nality. Dr.  Cocker  gives  five,'  self-evidence,  originality,  sim- 
plicity, necessity,  and  universality.  Sir  W.  Hamilton  lays 
down  but  one,  which  he  calls  by  the  double  name  of  univer- 
sality and  necessity,  and  says  that  it  was  first  proved  by  Lei- 
bnitz. It  is  evident  that  necessity  alone  is  sufficient  if  it  can 
be  proved;  also  that  universality  can  hardly  be  susceptible  of 
complete  proof,  though  an  approximation  to  such  proof  would 
go  far  to  raise  a  presumption  of  necessity.  Various  other  cri- 
teria are  thus  useful  for  proving  necessity,  and  may  be  called 
tributary  to  the  one  true  and  sufficient  criterion,  necessity. 


Doctrine  of  Perception.  125 

DOCTRINE  OF  PERCEPTION. 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  state  our  view  of  perception  in 
a  connected  way,  with  the  proper  limitations  and  distinctions. 

The  lowest  and  simplest  form  of  mental  action  is  sensation. 
Note  the  term,  mental  action.  T*>ome  writers  held  that  sensa- 
tions are  impressions,  which  combine  themselves,  transform 
themselves,  interpret  themselves,  evolve  out  of  themselves  not 
only  knowledge  but  consciousness.  We  hold  that  the  simplest 
sensation  is  an  act,  a  function,  and  implies  an  actor,  a  subject; 
that  knowledge  pre-supposes  some  one  who  knows,  who  has 
interpreted  sensations  into  knowledge  under  the  necessary 
forms  and  categories  of  thought. 

A  sensation  requires  an  ego  as  a  condition  of  its  existence, 
and  involves  a  knowledge  or  feeling  of  this  ego.  Some  writers 
use  the  term  sensation  in  a  narrower  sense,  to  denote  only  the 
impression  of  the  sense-organ,  and  say  that  we  are  conscious 
of  our  sensations,  or  unconscious  of  them,  as  the  case  may  be, 
and  that  having  a  sensation  and  knowing  that  we  have  it  are 
two  different  things.     This  use  of  the  term  is  objectionable. 

The  method  of  sensation  is  discrimination  between  different 
states  of  consciousness,  implying  the  action  and  the  validity  of 
the  categories  of  identity  and  similarity. 

It  is  probable  that  the  adult  mind  never  experiences  a  sim- 
ple sensation,  wholly  separate  from  others  and  unaccompanied 
by  associative  suggestion.  Our  simple  sensations  become 
firmly  connected  with  one  another  and  with  various  ideas,  in- 
terpretations, feelings,  imaginations,  etc.,  so  that  when  they  are 
repeated,  or  even  when  similar  ones  are  experienced,  a  great 
deal  of  knowledge  is  revived  or  suggested  by  association,  be- 
yond that  which  is  conveyed  directly  by  the  single  sensation  in 
point.     This  is  called  acquired  or  cultivated  perception. 

When  the  sense-organ  is  voluntarily  moved  or  modified  to 
9 


126  The  Intellect. 

adapt  it  to  the  object,  as  in  rolling  the  eye  or  moving  tne 
fingers,  simple  natural  perception  of  the  external  world  takes 
place.  We  perceive  it  directly,  under  the  category  of  being,  by 
an  inexplicable  act  of  the  mind,  as  something  real,  existing 
outside  of  us.  This  is  the  true  meaning  of  the  term  substance. 
What  the  object  is  in  its  qualities,  what  its  properties  are,  we 
learn  by  interpretation  of  the  sensations  occasioned  by  it. 

We  also,  in  this  kind  of  perception,  know  the  external  ob- 
ject under  the  form  of  space,  under  space  relations,  as  exist- 
ing in  space.  "  External  world  "  means,  normally,  objects  ex- 
ternal to  the  particular  sense-organ;  and  the  other  parts  of  the 
body  are  at  first  perceived  and  explored  just  the  same  as  other 
objects.  Later,  on  in  our  experience  a  distinction  is  estab- 
lished between  the  body  and  the  rest  of  the  external  world. 

When  we  exercise  or  resist  force  we  recognize  self  or  the 
moving  object  as  a  cause;  that  is,  we  know  it  as  the  cause  of 
the  change  which  has  occurred,  in  addition  to  perceiving  it  as 
being  and  as  being  in  space;  and  we  know  this  cause  not  as 
mere  succession,  but  as  actual  efficiency  acting  uniformly. 
Some  writers  hold  that  our  belief  in  causation  as  real  efficiency 
is  a  result  of  long-continued  association.  But  they  also  hold 
that  real  efficiency  is  a  delusion,  that  there  is  no  connection  of 
events  in  nature  but  invariable  succession. 

THEORIES  OF  PERCEPTION. 

We  shall  now  briefly  describe  some  of  the  more  noted 
theories  of  perception,  in  the  historical  method.  But  some 
preliminary  remarks  and  definitions  will  be  necessary. 

A  distinction  must  be  drawn  between  the  metaphysical  part 
of  a  theory  of  perception  and  the  psychological  part,  though 
they  are  in  practice  inseparable.  The  psychological  part 
has  been  more  backward  in  development,  and  has  indeed  been 
for  the  most  part  a  late  product.  It  is  only  in  recent  times 
that    light    and    sound    have   been  correctly  understood,    and 


Theories  of  Perception.  127 

hence  a  correct  doctrine  of  the  most  important  sensations 
has  been  beyond  the  reach  of  all  but  very  recent  philosophers. 
Indeed,  the  psychological  part  of  perception  may  perhaps  be 
all  brought  under  the  theory  of  vision.  It  has  even  been  said 
that  "theories  of  sense-perception  are  to  a  great  extent  theo- 
ries of  vision."     (Porter.)  « 

The  sense  of  sight  is  so  complicated,  involving  not  only  a 
special  sensibility  to  light  and  color,  but  so  many  different 
kinds  of  muscular  sensation,  that  it  presents  for  study  a  won- 
derful combination  of  phenomena,  optical,  physiological,  and 
mental.  Accordingly,  since  the  true  theory  of  vision  has 
been  established  and  almost  universally  accepted,  many  im- 
portant questions  concerning  perception  may  be  regarded  as 
settled. 

But  by  the  term  "  theory  of  perception  "  is  usually  meant, 
theory  of  the  knowledge  of  the  external  world  in  perception. 
This  has  been  in  dispute  among  philosophers  from  the  earliest 
times.  How  mind  can  come  into  contact  with  matter,  how 
knowledge  and  thought  arise  in  consequence  of  the  presence 
of  an  external  object,  how  much  the  mind  contributes  and 
how  much  the  object, — these  difficult,  probably  insoluble 
questions,  constitute  the  metaphysical  part  of  a  theory  of  per- 
ception. 

The  solution  of  these  questions  has  always  been  seriously 
affected  by  the  condition  of  philosophy  at  the  time,  the  reign- 
ing metaphysical  and  theological  dogmas  of  an  age  usually 
permeating  all  its  speculations. 

A  preliminary  classification  of  theories  is  necessary.  These 
fall  into  two  great  classes,  theories  of  immediate  or  presenta- 
tive  perception,  and  theories  of  mediate  or  representative  per- 
ception. This  distinction  refers  to  the  psychological  process, 
not  to  the  physical  one;  to  what  goes  on  in  the  mind,  not  what 
goes  on  in  the  air  or  the  ether  or  the  nerve. 

Immediate,  presentative,  or  intuitive  perception  denotes  a 


128  The  Intellect. 

direct  knowledge  of  the  object  in  perception.  This  object, 
however,  may  be  held  to  be  either  real  or  ideal,  a  real  exter- 
nal object  according  to  the  natural  belief  of  men,  or  a  sub- 
jective ideal  object,  a  phenomenon  in  or  of  the  mind.  Those 
who  hold  the  object  to  be  externally  real  may  be  called  real- 
ists, as  believing  in  a  material,  external,  extended  object;  or 
natural  realists  as  holding  the  natural,  primary  opinion  con- 
cerning the  external  world;  or  natural  dualists  as  opponents  of 
the  theory  of  monism  or  absolute  identity. 

Those  who  deny,  the  reality  of  the  external  object  may  be 
called  idealists  as  opposed  to  realists,  or  as  believing  in  noth- 
ing but  ideas;  or  monists  as  believing  in  the  absolute  identity 
of  the  subject  and  object,  the  unity  of  the  universal  essence. 

Idealists,  again,  may  differ  in  various  ways,  holding  that  the 
mind  and  the  object  are  both  ideal,  being  correlated  phases  of 
the  same  essence;  or  that  the  mind  is  the  author  of  all  its 
own  perceptions;  or  that  all  perceptions  are  infused  in  the 
mind  by  the  immediate  act  of  a  supernatural  power. 
•  These  two  theories,  natural  realism  and  idealism,  are,  says 
Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "the  only  systems  worthy  of  a  philosopher; 
for,  as  they  alone  have  any  foundation  in  consciousness,  so 
they  alone  have  any  consistency  in  themselves." 

The  representative  theory  of  perception  may  be  said  to  be 
a  mixture  of  the  other  two.  Those  who  hold  to  it  believe  in 
the  reality  of  the  external  world,  yet  deny  that  we  can  know  it 
except  by  inference.  They  may  thus  be  called  cosmothetic 
idealists,  or  hypothetical  realists.  They  all  hold  that  the  object' 
in  perception  is  not  the  external  object  itself,  but  a  representa- 
tion or  idea  or  image  of  it  in  the  mind.  Obviously  the  source 
and  nature  of  this  image  may  be  the  subject  of  various  sub- 
sidiary hypotheses. 

Sir  W.  Hamilton  has  drawn  out  these  distinctions  to 
the  last  degree  of  tenuity.  (Philosophy,  Wight's  ed.,  264. 
Metaphysics,  Bowen's  ed.,  352.) 


Historical  Sketch.  129 


HISTORICAL  SKETCH. 


It  is  important  for  the  student  to  gain  some  acquaintance 
with  the  greatest  names  in  philosophy  and  their  relative  great- 
ness and  position.  Hence  our  sketch,  though  necessarily  very 
brief,  will  not  be  confined   strictly  to  theories  of  perception. 

We  pass  over  the  earliest  Greek  philosophers,  about  whom 
httle  is  really  known. 

Plato,  (429-347  b.  c.)  the  greatest  writer  and  thinker  of 
antiquity,  was  not  a  system-maker,  and  it  js  not  easy  to  decide 
from  his  dialogues  what  his  real  opinions  were.  He  made  a 
distinction  between  two  kinds  of  knowledge,  that  of  the 
senses,  which  he  held  to  be  illusive  and  untrustworthy,  and 
that  of  the  intellect,  wmich  he  held  to  be  certain,  lofty,  and 
rational.  He  has  been  called  an  idealist,  but  that  is  on  ac- 
count of  his  doctrine  of  ideas,  and  not  with  reference  to  his 
doctrine  of  perception;  for  he  taught  that  sensation  is  a  joint 
product  of  the  action  of  the  external  object  and  the  sentient 
agent.  He  did  not,  however  assign  a  definite  part  to  each 
of  these  elements  in  perception. 

Plato  is  remarkable  for  the  beauty  and  versatility  and  dra- 
matic power  of  his  style;  for  the  vast  range  of  his  intellectual 
activity;  for  his  surprising  anticipations  of  modern  discoveries 
and  theories;  for  his  insight  into  moral  and  religious  truth, 
and  his  firm  belief  in  the  unity  and  goodness  of  God;  and  for 
his  wonderfully  stimulating  power  over  many  of  the  finest 
minds  in  all  subsequent  ages. 

Aristotle,  (384-322  b.  c.)  made  advances  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  operation  of  the  senses,  especially  vision,  in  which 
he  approached  wonderfully  near  to  the  modern  theory  that 
vision  depends  on  the  vibrations  of  an  invisible  medium.  It 
has  always  been  in  dispute,  however,  whether  Aristotle  meant 
that  perception  is  through  a  corporeal  emanation  from  the  ob- 


i3° 


The  Intellect. 


ject,  thus  anticipating  modern  scientific  knowledge  in  the  case 
of  sight  and  hearing, — or  that  perception  is  through  a  mental 
form,  an  incorporeal  impression,  thus  anticipating  some  of  the 
modern  representationists. 

Aristotle  held  to  a  common  or  general  sense,  underlying  all 
the  special  senses,  for  which  some  recent  writers  use,  in  Eng- 
lish, the  term  "ccengesthesis."  He  also  taught  that  imagination 
(phantasy)  pictures  and  retains  before  the  mind  the  impressions 
of  sense,  thus  being  a  condition  of  memory. 

He  opposed  reason  to  sense,  teaching  "  that  sense  is  re- 
stricted and  individual,  thought  free  and  universal;  and  that 
while  sense  deals  with  the  concrete  and  material  aspect  of 
phenomena,  reason  deals  with  the  abstract  and  ideal.  But 
while  reason  is  thus  in  itself  the  source  of  general  ideas,  it  is  so 
only  potentially " — it  requires  sense-presentations  which  it 
"  unifies  and  interprets."  (Wallace,  Outlines  of  Philosophy  of 
Aristotle,  91). 

Aristotle  is  remarkable  as  the  author  of  the  science  of  formal 
logic,  which  has  received  no  substantial  improvements  since  his 
day;  for  his  interest  in  every  department  of  physical  science 
and  the  zeal  with  which  he  examined  and  classified  natural 
objects;  for  his  practical  and  political  wisdom;  for  the  wonder- 
ful ascendancy  of  his  influence  and  the  unreasoning  deference 
paid  to  his  authority  throughout  many  centuries  of  the  Chris- 
tian era,  after  the  re-discovery  of -his  works. 

The  schoolmen,  through  the  middle  ages,  for  the  most  part 
followed  Aristotle  as  closely  as  they  could,  though  not  always 
understanding  him  correctly,  and  being  somewhat  influenced 
too,  by  the  less  precise,  less  practical,  more  poetic  spirit  of 
Plato.  Being  largely  absorbed  in  theology,  and  having  scarcely 
any  more  scientific  knowledge  than  Aristotle  had  possessed 
they  were  able  to  add  almost  nothing  to  his  psychological 
doctrines,  and  could  only  dispute  about  "  intelligible  species  f 
or  "  perceptible  forms."     We  cannot  give  space  to  any  of  them. 


Historical  Sketch.  131 

Descartes  (1 576-1 650),  is  commonly  called  the  father  of 
modern  philosophy.  Putting  aside  the  authority  of  Aristotle 
and  all  others,  he  doubted  everything.  "  There  would  have 
been  little  merit  in  such  an  assumption  of  independence  at  a 
later  day,  after  it  had  become  the  fashion;  but  it  was  an  un- 
precedented step  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century." 
(Bowen.) 

His  doubt,  however,  was  not  that  of  the  skeptic;  he  did  not 
doubt  for  the  sake  of  doubting,  but  in  order  to  test  systemat- 
ically the  foundations  of  truth.  "  My  whole  design  "  he  said, 
"looks  to  the  attainment  of  certainty."  He  was  "the  prince 
of  dogmatists; "  his  method  was  dogmatic  or  deductive,  not 
inductive.  He  found  the  first  basis  of  certainty  in  the 
axiom,  cogito,  ergo  sum;  'thought,  the  existence  of  which  cannot 
be  denied,  implies  a  thinker,  a  thinking  being,  an  ego.  This 
personal  existence  becomes  "  the  type  of  all  reality,  and  the 
measure  of  all  certainty." 

He  afterwards  developed  this  into  a  doctrine  of  innate  ideas. 
But  "  by  innate  ideas  he  does  not  mean  ready-made  ideas, 
complete  images  or  pictures,  in  the  mind  of  the  infant.  He 
means  that  the  mind  infused  by  the  Deity  into  every  human 
body  has  certain  natural  predispositions  which  compel  it  to 
adopt  certain  beliefs,  as  soon  as  it  begins  to  reflect  and  to 
exercise  its  faculties.  Such  are  the  ideas  of  God,  of  substance, 
of  unity,  and  a  host  of  others,  which  he  never  essayed  to 
enumerate."     (Mahaffy,  Descartes,  165.) 

He  drew  a  sharp  distinction  between  matter  and  mind, 
teaching  that  extension  is  the  essence  of  matter  and  thought 
the  essence  of  mind.  The  mind,  finding  itself  the  subject  of 
certain  affections  called  sensations,  infers  that  external  objects 
exist  as  the  cause  of  these  sensations.  The  body,  however,  is 
a  part  of  the  external  world,  a  mere  machine  or  automaton, 
acted  upon  by  the  qualities  of  objects,  and  undergoing  changes 


132  The  Intellect. 

which  are  interpreted  by  the  mind.  The  medium  through 
which  sense-impressions  are  conveyed  to  the  brain  is  the 
"animal  spirits,"  an  invisible,  imponderable  fluid.  How  these 
sensations  are  imparted  to  the  mind  he  does  not  explain. 

In  thus  assuming  to  know  the  essence  of  matter  and  mind 
Descartes  opened  the  door  to  vast  errors.  The  logical  conse- 
quences of  such  assumptions  would  be  too  much  for  any  sys- 
tem to  support;  and  though  he  himself  did  not  follow  them  to 
the  end,  his  followers  did  so,  and  soon  involved  themselves  in 
contradictions  and  fantastic  theories,  as  we  shall  see.  "  There 
is  scarcely  a  theory  of  sense-perception,"  says  Pres.  Porter,  "in 
which  some  erroneous  assumption  of  Descartes  may  not  be 
traced." 

He  did  not  teach  that  perception  is-  by  means  of  representa- 
tive ideas,  but  such  is  plainly  the  natural  outcome  of  his  sys- 
tem, and  some  of  his  followers  soon  began  so  to  hold.  He 
taught  that  in  perception  we  only  infer  the  existence  of  an 
external  object,  with  the  aid  of  habit  and  association.  He  did 
not  himself  push  the  natural  implications  of  this  further  than 
to  say  that  it  is  possible  to  suppose  there  is  no  external  reality 
which  corresponds  to  our  ideas  of  matter.  But  it  was  not 
many  years  before  Berkeley  arose  to  make  this  dogma  world- 
renowned. 

Descartes  was  indeed  a  truly  great  man.  Besides  stimulat- 
ing and  directing  several  generations  in  philosophy,  he  led  the 
way  in  physics  and  mathematics,  being  the  originator  of  the 
modern  application  of  mathematics  to  physics,  and  of  algebra 
to  geometry.  "  We  to  whom  the  scholastic  theories  are  things 
long  past,  cannot  now  feel  the  novelty  and  the  boldness  of 
Descartes'  conception,  that  all  nature  can  be  represented  in 
algebraic  formulae,  and  its  laws  expressed  in  definite  equations." 
"  He  swayed  not  only  his  followers  but  his  opponents  for  a 
whole  century;  and  he  gave  to  certain   sciences,  especially  to 


Historical  Sketch.  133 

optics,  to  physiology,  and  to  physical  astronomy,  an  impulse 
which  has  never  been  exhausted."  (Mahaffy,  Descartes,  69, 
204.) 

His  followers  in  philosophy,  accepting  his  opposition  be- 
tween mind  and  matter,  began  to  hold  that  neither  could  ever 
act  upon  the  other,  and  to  devise  theories  to  account  for  their 
apparent  interaction. 

Leibnitz  (1646-17 16),  is  usually  mentioned  in  connection 
with  Descartes,  though  the  interval  in  time  is  somewhat  great, 
and  Leibnitz  lived  long  enough  to  reply  to  Locke,  and  dispute 
with  Newton  the  honors  of  the  calculus. 

To  solve  the  great  problem  of  body  and  mind,  and  other 
problems  as  well,  he  invented  his  celebrated  hypothesis  of  pre- 
established  harmony,  already  described.  He  held  that  God 
has  pre-arranged  from  eternity  parallel  courses  of  events,  so 
that,  although  matter  and  spirit  cannot  act  upon  one  another, 
yet  "a  mode  of  one  always  coincides  with  a  mode  of  the 
other." 

This  can  hardly  be  called  a  theory  of  perception,  but  is 
rather  a  hypothesis  of  how  to  get  along  without  perception. 

Leibnitz'  great  influence  in  philosophy  was  chiefly  through 
his  metaphysical  doctrines.  His  psychological  suggestions  were 
chiefly  worked  out  by  his  followers,  a  few  of  whom  we  shall 
mention.  But  if  this  wonderful  man  did  little  for  psychology 
it  is  because  he  did  so  much  for  almost  every  other  department 
of  human  knowledge.  Of. him  it  was  said  that  he  drove  all 
the  sciences  abreast.  He  shared  with  Sir  Isaac  Newton  the 
glory  of  discovering  the  infinitesimal  calculus,  and  the  notation 
which  he  devised  was  far  superior  to  that  of  Newton.  His 
theory  of  monads  seems  like  an  anticipation  of  the  modern 
atomic  theory,  of  Darwin's  cell-gemmules,  and  of  Spencer's 
physiological  units.  His  doctrine  of  space  and  time  is  almost 
the  same  with  that  of  Kant.     He  seems  to  have  seen  that  heat 


134  The  Intellect. 

is  a  mode  of  motion,  and  that  space  is  occupied  by  an  impon- 
derable ether.  Matter,  he  taught,  is  nothing  but  force,  which 
is  now  the  latest  theory  of  metaphysical  physics.  His  scheme 
of  optimism,  embodied  in  a  theodicy  or  vindication  of  the 
Divine  government  of  the  universe,  though  ridiculed  by  Vol- 
taire in  his  "  Candide,"  is  celebrated  and  influential  in  literature 
and  theology  to  this  day. 

He  was  a  statesman,  a  politician,  an  instructor  of  princes,  a 
man  living  in  courts,  acquainted  with  diplomacy,  and  familiar 
with  affairs. 

This  brief  sketch  displays  a  marvelous  genius,  perhaps 
equaled  in  comprehensiveness  by  Aristotle  alone  among  the 
sons  of  men.  If  such  a  man  could  find  no  way  of  explaining 
the  interaction  of  body  and  mind  but  the  fantastic  hypothesis 
of  pre-established  harmony,  it  goes  far  to  show  that  this  knot, 
though  anybody  can  cut  it,  is  to  be  untied  by  no  human  mind. 

The  most  immediate  follower  of  Leibnitz  was  Wolf  (1679- 
1754),  who,  in  a  mechanical  way,  developed  some  of  his 
master's  doctrines  into  a  system  of  representational  psychology. 
We  only  mention  him  as  a  transition  to  the  next  name. 

Herbart,  (1776-1841),  may  be  called  the  next  in  this  suc- 
cession, developing  and  applying  the  hints  of  Leibnitz,  though 
some  call  him  a  successor  of  Kant,  to  whom  he  owed  much. 

He  was  a  very  able  and  extremely  ingenious  thinker,  and  his 
speculations  have  not  received,  especially  in  this  country,  all 
the  attention  they  merit.  His  psychology  is  derived  from 
Leibnitz'  monadology.  "  The  soul  is  a  simple,  spaceless  es- 
sence, of  simple  quality.  It  is  located  at  a  single  point  within 
the  brain.  When  the  senses  are  affected,  and  motion  is  trans- 
mitted by  the  nerve  to  the  brain,  the  soul  is  penetrated  by  the 
simple,  real  essences  which  immediately  surround  it.  Its  qual- 
ity then  performs  an  act  of  self-preservation  in  opposition  to 
the  disturbance  which   it  would  otherwise   suffer  from   the  — 


Historical  Sketch.  135 

whether  partially  or  totally — opposite  quality  of  each  of  these 
other  simple  essences;  every  such  act  of  self-preservation  on 
the  part  of  the  soul  is  an  idea.  All  ideas  (representations) 
endure,  even  after  the  occasion  which  has  called  them  forth 
has  ceased.  When  there  are  at  the  same  time  in  the  soul 
several  ideas,  which  are  either  partially  or  totally  opposed  to 
each  other,  they  cannot  continue  to  subsist  together  without 
being  partially  arrested;  they  must  be  arrested,  that  is  become 
unconscious,  to  a  degree  measured  by  the  sum  of  the  intensi- 
ties of  all  these  ideas  with  the  exception  of  the  strongest." 
(Ueberweg,  History  of  Philosophy  II,  265.) 

Herbart  applied  mathematics  to  the  discussion  of  sensations 
and  ideas,  to  a  surprising  extent.  His  philosophy  may  be 
called  an  attempt  to  combine  idealism  and  materialism. 

Lotze  (18 1 7-1 881),  adopted  some  of  the  methods  of  Her- 
bart, especially  the  use  of  mathematics,  and  certainly  reached 
similar  conclusions  on  many  points,  though  he  strenuously 
denied  being  Herbart's  disciple.  Lotze  stands  very  high  in 
recent  German  philosophy,  and  is  noted  for  candor,  breadth, 
acuteness,  ingenuity,  and  moral  purpose.  He  was  perhaps 
more  nearly  a  follower  of  Leibnitz  than  of  any  one  else.  We 
have  already  quoted  him  many  times. 

We  must  now  ascend  again  the  stream  of  philosophy  to 
Descartes,  and  trace  the  development  of  his  hints  in  Mal- 
ebranche,  parallel  with  Leibnitz,  and  in  Locke,  who  took  a 
decidedly  different  direction. 

Malebranche  (1638-17 1 5),  was  another  who  pushed  Car- 
tesianism  beyond  itself.  According  to  him,  mind,  having  no 
extension,  cannot  be  touched  or  affected  in  any  way  by  matter; 
they  are  separated  from  each  other  by  the  "whole  diameter  of 
being."  He  accounted  for  perception  by  the  "  vision  of  all 
things  in  God,"  and  this  is  the  usual  catch-word  of  his  philos- 
ophy.    What  we  perceive  is  not  objects  themselves  but  ideas 


136  The  Intellect. 

or  representations  of  objects.  These  ideas  do  not  proceed 
from  the  object,  nor  are  they  produced  by  the  mind,  nor  by 
the  constant  action  of  divine  power,  but  they  "exist  in  God, 
and  human  minds  behold  them  there,  through  their  union  with 
him."     (Bowen.) 

If  this  be  a  theory  of  perception  at  all,  it  is  plainly  one  of 
representative  perception,  with  strong  leanings  toward  idealism 
and  Pantheism. 

Malebranche  was  a  great  writer.  "His  writings,  which  are 
voluminous,  had  great  popularity  and  success,  for  he  was  one 
of  the  founders  and  masters  of  ornate  and  eloquent  French 
prose,  the  contemporary  and  rival  of  Pascal,  Bossuet,  and 
Fenelon,  and  perhaps  superior  to  them  all  in  lofty  flights  of  the 
imagination,  in  the  wealth  and  vivacity  of  his  illustrations.  . 
Perhaps  no  other  writer,  except  Plato,  suffers  so  much 
by  cold  analysis  and  abridgment."     (Bowen,  Modern  Phil.,  74.) 

Spinoza  (1632-1677),  a  Spanish  Jew  by  descent,  whose 
family,  exiled  through  persecution,  had  settled  in  Holland, 
developed  the  philosophy  of  Descartes  in  another  direction. 
By  an  obvious  step  he  reduced  Descartes'  two  substances, 
mind  and  matter,  to  one  substance  with  two  fundamental  attri- 
butes, extension  and  thought,  thus  becoming  the  leader  of 
modern  Pantheism.  His  metaphysics  has  had  vast  influence 
in  the  history  of  philosophy,  but  it  does  not  concern  us  here, 
and  his  psychology  is  not  of  sufficient  importance  or  clearness 
to  occupy  our  time.  We  mention  him  as  displaying  the  re- 
markable way  in  which  the  suggestions  of  Descartes  were 
taken  up  and  developed  in  many  directions  by  the  acutest 
minds  of  the  age. 

John  Locke  (1632-1704),  is  usually  thought  of  as  a  fine 
example  of  English  common-sense,  from  his  using  common 
every-day  language  without  technicalities.  In  this  respect, 
however,  his  success  has  not  been  encouraging,  for  his  neglect 


Historical  Sketch.  137 

of  terminology  and  technicality  involved  him  in  obscurity  and 
contradiction,  and  has  caused  endless  uncertainty  and  contro- 
versy. 

The  catch-word  of  his  system  is,  "all  knowledge  is  derived 
from  sensation  and  reflection."  The  most  important  novelty 
of  his  great  work,  the  Essay  on  Human  Understanding,  was 
the  denial  of  innate  ideas,  which  occupied  the  first  book,  and 
which  was  a  direct  reply  to  Descartes.  His  ablest  critics  hold, 
however,  that  he  introduces  under  the  head  of  reflection,  those 
a  priori  concepts  which,  in  a  crude  and  unphiLosophical  form, 
he  had  disproved  at  the  outset. 

"  He  protests  against  innate  ideas,  but  nevertheless  admits 
all  that  Descartes  had  ever  maintained, — viz.,  that  the  human 
inind  must  infallibly  attain  certain  universal  truths  in  the  ordi- 
nary exercise  of  its  powers.  .  .  Though  he  hardly  men- 
tions Cartesian  theories  except  to  refute  them,  his  whole  essay 
teems  with  assumptions  taken  from '  the  system  he  decries." 
(Mahaffy,  Descartes,  203.) 

By  ;'  reflection"  Locke  is  admitted  to  have  meant  introspect- 
ive or  reflective  consciousness. 

By  his  denial  of  intuitive  ideas  he  has  had  an  immense  in- 
fluence on  subsequent  speculation,  and  the  whole  modern 
sensationalist  school  dates  its  own  origin  from  him  and  looks 
up  to  him  as  its  great  original.  J.  Stuart  Mill  calls  Locke 
"the  unquestioned  founder  of  the  analytic  philosophy  of 
mind."  Like  most  of  his  followers,  he  misunderstood  the 
doctrine  of  intuitive  ideas,  at  least  in  the  real  intention  of  its 
supporters  and  the  more  careful  statements  of  recent  times. 

He  assumes  that  the  mind  resembles  in  the  first  place  a 
piece  of  white  paper,  on  which  ideas  are  to  be  written  by  sen- 
sation, in  which  the  mind  is  passive.  But  in  fact  "  he  finds  it 
impossible  to  carry  out  his  first  fancy  of  the  mind  as  a  purely 
neutral  tint,  or  as  a  mere  faculty  of  passive  receptivity.     .     . 


138  The  Intellect. 

.  .  Mind,  for  Locke,  is  like  a  mirror,  conscious  of  the 
1mages  reflected  on  its  surface.  The  images  do  not  explain 
the  consciousness.  Accordingly,  the  '  white  paper '  theory,  so 
far  as  it  seemed  to  imply  that  mind  was  blankly  passive  and 
receptive,  and  only  that,  is  practically  modified  in  the  progress 
of  Locke's  inquiries.  The  '  white  paper '  turns  out  to  be 
capable  of  '  operations,'  and  to  possess  'powers.'"  (Morris, 
British  Thought  and  Thinkers,  196.) 

Indeed  he  made  these  admissions  in  such  a  way  that  some 
have  claimed  them  to  be  his  true  doctrine.  His  "  prevail- 
ing tendency,  however,  is  certainly  not  in  this  direction." 
His  admissions  are  unconscious  and  his  great  work  has  proved 
a  fountain  of  empiricism  and  skepticism.  Yet  it  has  greatly 
advanced  the  truth  also  by  the  controversies  it  has  kindled, 
compelling  better  definition  and  statement. 

Locke  held  that  the  objects  of  perception  are  the  qualities 
of  matter,  the  primary  qualities  being  known  directly  and  the 
secondary  through  them,  the  obscure  idea  of  substance  being 
involved.  He  did  not  probably  hold  a  theory  of  representa- 
tive perception  by  means  of  ideas,  though  much  of  his  lan- 
guage seems  to  imply  this,  and  he  is  so  understood  by  many. 

Though  Locke  embroiled  himself  with  the  clergy  by  declar- 
ing that  the  substance  of  the  soul  might  possibly  be  material, 
and  by  rejecting  the  usual  proofs  of  the  existence  of  God,  yet 
he  was  a  man  of  irreproachable  life,  and  a  Christian  believer. 

Berkeley  (1684-1753),  is  known  as  the  great  idealist.  Ac- 
cepting Locke's  theory  or  supposed  theory  of  representative 
and  passive  perception,  he  saw  that  on  this  theory  matter  was 
an  unknown  and  unknowable  something,  the  occasion  of  our 
perceptions,  and  that  it  was  not  only  impossible  to  prove  that 
any  such  thing  really  exists,  but  absurd  to  impute  causation  to 
such  an  inert,  passive  unperceived  substratum  as  this  "sub- 
stance," in  which  the  qualities  of  matter  were  supposed  to  in- 


Historical  Sketch.  139 

here.  Matter,  then,  as  the  substratum  of  qualities,  the  cause 
of  sensations,  is,  he  says,  an  unnecessary  hypothesis.  Ma- 
terial substance,  being  an  abstract  idea,  and  its  qualities  exist- 
ing only  in  the  perceiving  mind,  the  universe  can  only  exist  in 
the  mind  of  the  Divine  Being,  and  can  have  no  real  separate 
being  of  its  own.  Thus  Berkeley  did  not,  as  is  usually  stated, 
deny  the  existence  of  matter,  but  spiritualized,  or  idealized  it. 

Berkeley's  positive  contributions  to  the  theory  of  perception 
have  been  spoken  of  under  Vision,  and  their  value  is  ines- 
timable. But  his  theory  has  also  proved  fruitful  in  meta- 
physics, having  been  the  source  of  the  whole  vast  stream  of 
modern  idealistic  philosophy. 

Through  Hume  he  awakened  the  mighty  speculative  genius 
of  Kant,  who  taught  that  the  mind,  by  a  complicated  process, 
constructs  its  own  perceptions,  the  qualities  of  matter  being 
relative  to  our  faculties  only,  and  the  reality  of  matter  a 
"  noumenon"  unknown  and  unknowable.  This  scheme  of 
cosmothetic  idealism,  or  ideal  realism,  soon  became  absolute 
idealism  in  the  hands  of  his  successors,  (the  greatest  of  whom 
was  Hegel)  and  was  reared  into  the  most  extraordinary  struct- 
ure of  abstract  thought  the  world  has  ever  seen.  Thus  phi- 
losophy, having  made  the  tour  of  Great  Britain,  through  Locke 
in  England,  Berkeley  in  Ireland,  and  Hume  in  Scotland,  re- 
turned to  Germany,  enriched  and  strengthened,  to  run  a  won- 
derful course  in  its  chosen  land. 

Hume(i7ii-i776),  the  prince  of  skeptics,  applied  Berkeley's 
mode  of  reasoning  to  the  phenomena  of  mind  as  well  as  mat- 
ter, and  thus  produced  a  system  of  skepticism  the  most 
thoiough-going  ever  framed. 

We  must  now  return  and  trace  the  principal  stream  of  phi- 
losophical tendency  from  the  works  of  John  Locke,  namely,  that 
which  developed  the  sensationalistic  or  materialistic  side  of  his 
philosophy.     He    was  not  a   materialist,  though  he  declared 


140  The  Intellect. 

that  matter  might  possibly  think,  and  that  the  soul  might  pos- 
sibly be  made  of  matter. 

But  his  doctrine  that  all  knowledge  is  derived  from  sensa- 
tion and  reflection  received  a  most  unexpected  development. 
It  was  not  noticed  that  reflection  with  him  was  really  introspect- 
ive consciousness,  finding  or  producing  a  priori  concepts  or 
necessary  truths,  and  it  was  promulgated,  on  Locke's  authority, 
that  all  knowledge  is  derived  from  sensation  alone,  that  all  the 
faculties  of  the  mind  are  but  transformed  sensation  and  asso- 
ciation. 

This  scheme  is  called  empirical,  as  deriving  everything  from 
experience,  a  term  introduced  by  Kant;  or  experiential,  a  term 
recently  gaining  ground  (perhaps  because  the  word  empirical 
has  another  application,  namely,  to  a  physician  who  experiments 
on  his  patients,  a  quack);  or  sensational,  as  deriving  all  knowl- 
edge from  sensations  and  all  faculty  from  sensation;  or  asso- 
ciational,  as  accounting  for  the  transformation  of  sensations  by 
the  law  of  association;  or  materialistic,  as  not  really  leaving 
room  for  any  immaterial  soul  or  mind. 

This  development  of  the  more  obvious  and  popular  side  of 
Locke  has  been  the  strongest  current  in  English  thought,  and 
was  almost  the  only  current  of  French  thought  throughout  the 
eighteenth  century.  A  great  similarity  runs  through  this  whole 
school  of  writers. 

Condillac  (17 1 5-1 780),  was  the  chief  apostle  of  this  new 
gospel  of  sensation  in  France.  He  taught  that  the  mind  is 
passive  in  sensation,  that  all  ideas  are  but  transformed  sensa- 
tion, and  yet  that  bodies  are  only  collections  of  sensations, 
being  nothing  but  qualities,  without  any  substratum  of  real  be- 
ing, and  qualities  being  entirely  subjective. 

This  curious  combination  of  materialism  and  pseudo-ideal- 
ism is  common  to  many  others  of  the  school,  even  down  to 
the  present  time.     Huxley  propounds  it  in  the  crudest  fashion. 


Historical  Sketch. 

J.  Stuart  Mill  confessed  its  difficulties  as  insuperable  and  yet 
adhered  to  it.  Bain  attempts  to  defend  it,  and  Herbert  Spencer 
takes  it  for  granted. 

Dr.  Thomas  Brown  (1778-1820),  professor  at  Edinburgh, 
was  strongly  under  the  influence  of  this  kind  of  thought.  He 
was  remarkable  for  the  eloquence  and  enthusiasm  with  which 
he  lectured,  and  the  great  popular .  reputation  which  he  ac- 
quired throughout  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States. 

Brown  was  the  first  properly  to  distinguish  the  muscular 
sensations,  from  which  he  derived  our  knowledge  of  space  and 
of  the  external  world.  like  his  school  in  general  he  confused 
sensation  and  perception  and  denied  efficiency  in  causation. 
He  had  remarkable  ingenuity  as  well  as  eloquence  and«great 
boldness.  He  was  treated  with  great  harshness  of  criticism  by 
Hamilton,  who,  of  course,  had  Brown  greatly  at  advantage  by 
his  superiority  of  learning.  Hamilton  accused  Brown  of  plag- 
iarism; but  if  the  sins  of  philosophers  in  this  way  should  be 
marked,  who  shall  stand?  Not  even,  it  is  hinted,  Sir  W.  Ham- 
ilton himself. 

James  MtljL  (1773-1836),  is  chiefly  known  now  as  the 
father  of  John  Stuart  Mill,  but  his  treatise  is  one  of  the  best 
of  his  school,  free  from  the  prolixity  of  Brown,  and  less  in. 
tended  for  the  popular  ear. 

J.  S.  Mill  (1806-1873),  a  great  name  in  English  thought, 
was  not  a  special  student  of  psychology.  His  greatest  works 
are  his  treaties  on  political  economy  and  logic.  His  inacquaint- 
ance  with  the  history  of  philosophy  led  him  into  errors,  and 
his  criticisms  of  Hamilton  were  often  ineffective.  He  is  very 
remarkable  in  psychology  for  the  frankness  with  which  he  ac- 
knowledged the  inadequacy  of  his  own,  and  his  father's  system, 
to  answer  the  great  questions  of  philosophy. 

He  defines  mind  as  "a  series  of  feelings,  or,  as  it  has  been 
called,  a  thread  of  consciousness,  however  supplemented   by 


142  The  Intellect. 

believed  possibilities  of  consciousness."  But  he  admits  th.it 
this  theory  of  mind  "  has  intrinsic  difficulties.  .  .  .  which 
it  seems  to  me  beyond  the  power  of  metaphysical  analysis  to 
remove."  And  he  adds,  "  if  we  speak  of  the  mind  as  a  series 
of  feelings,  we  are  obliged  to  complete  the  statement  by  call- 
ing it  a  series  of  feelings  which  is  aware  of  itself  as  past  and 
future."  "The  truth  is,  we  are  here  face  to  face  with  that 
final  inexplicability  at  which,  as  Sir  W.  Hamilton  observes,  we 
inevitably  arrive  when  we  reach  ultimate  facts."  (Examina- 
tion, I,  262.)  It  seems  plain  to  us  that  Mr.  Mill  made  this 
particular  inexplicability  for  himself,  though  we  admit  that 
there  are  enough  of  them  in  the  universe  ready-made;  but  as 
stated  by  him  it  is  more,  it  is  an  absurdity. 

He  declares  that  our  irresistible  belief  in  the  reality  of  the 
external  world  is  a  product  of  association.  (I,  237.)  He  de- 
fines matter  therefore  as  a  "permanent  possibility  of  sensation. 
If  I  am  asked  whether  I  believe  in  matter,  I  ask  whether  the 
questioner  accepts  this  definition  of  it.  If  he  does,  I  believe 
in  matter.  ...  In  any  other  sense  than  this  I  do  not." 
(1,243.)  "  The  belief  in  such  permanent  possibilities  seems 
to  me  to  include  all  that  is  essential  or  characteristic  in  the  be 
lief  in  substance."  (I,  246.)  This  assumes  that  the  only 
thing  to  be  accounted  for  is  the  power  which  matter  has  of 
occasioning  sensations,  and  also  implies  a  wrong  conception  of 
what  a  sensation  is,  a  false  use  of  the  term  sensation.  Being 
is  thus  reduced  "to  less  than  its  own  shadow,  namely,  only  to 
a  'permanent  possibility'  (whatever  that  may  mean)  of  its 
shadow,  projected  in  the  form  of  feeling."  (Morris,  British 
Thought  and  Thinkers,  330.) 

We  have  referred  to  Mr.  Mill  so  often  in  the  preceding  pages 
that  it  is  not  necessary  here  to  discuss  his  psychology  further. 

Alexander  Bain  (1818-),  Professor  at  Aberdeen,  an  asso- 
ciate, disciple,  and  friend  of  J.  S.  Mill,  is  a  voluminous  writer 


Historical  Sketch.  .  143 

on  the  phenomena  of  mind.  Adopting  the  associational 
theory  he  has  very  ingeniously  strengthened  some  of  its  weak 
points. 

He  insists  upon  a  principle  of  spontaneous  activity  in  human 
nature,  which  he  makes  a  "  primitive  element  of  the  Will." 
This  may,  perhaps,  partly  meet  the  objection  against  the  sen- 
sational system,  that  it  makes  sensations  active  but  the  mind 
passive. 

He  teaches  that  it  is  natural  for  man  to  believe;  that  we  are 
irresistibly  impelled  to  believe  in  what  we  perceive  or  what  is 
told  us,  until  corrected  by  experience.  The  "  intuitionist " 
form  of  this  principle  would  be  that  the  testimony  of  conscious- 
ness is  correct  beyond  appeal,  so  far  as  it  goes,  and  the  errors  of 
perception  are  to  be  explained  in  other  ways. 

He  holds  to  three  primitive  principles,  consciousness  of 
agreement  and  of  difference,  and  retentiveness;  thus  implicitly 
introducing  two  categories  of  the  understanding,  identity-di- 
versity, and  similarity-dissimilarity,  and  surreptitiously  assum- 
ing, under  memory,  the  principles  of  Self  and  Time. 

He  holds  that  the  basis  of  induction  is  a  belief  in  the  uni- 
formity of  nature;  but  the  only  rational  ground  for  such  uni- 
formity is  reality  of  causation,  which  he  denies,  and  the  belief 
in  which  he  derives  from  experience,  having  first  reduced  it  to 
mere  succession. 

His  system  thus  really  rests  upon  necessary  principles  of 
cognition,  and  so  shows,  it  seems  to  us,  a  decided  progress  in 
the  school,  though  a  progress  under  the  surface  and  as  it  were, 
in  spite  of  itself. 

Herbert  Spencer  (1820-),  has  devoted  his  life  to  the 
elaboration  and  defence  of  the  theory  of  evolution.  His 
Psychology  is  more  taken  up  with  the  development  of  nerves 
in  a  mass  of  organized  matter,  and  the  evolution  of  mind  out 
of  "nervous  shocks,"  than  with  psychology  in  the  usual  sense. 


144  The  Intellect. 

His  theories  of  the  origin  and  nature  of  mind  will  be  better 
discussed  later  on.  His  theory  of  perception  makes  it  involve 
classification. 

"Special  perception  is  possible  only  as  an  intuition  of  a  like- 
ness or  unlikeness  of  certain  present  attributes  and  relations 
[sensations]  to  certain  past  attributes  and  relations."  (II,  132.) 
In  another  place  this  "  intuition  "  becomes  association.  "  The 
primary  and  essential  association  is  between  each  feeling  and 
the  class,  order,  genus,  species,  and  variety  of  preceding  feel- 
ings like  itself.  ...  A  feeling  cannot  form  an  element  of 
mind  at  all,  save  on  condition  of  being  associated  with  prede- 
cessors more  or  less  the  same  in  nature."     (I,  256.) 

Every  perception,  he  says,  implies  a  judgment,  a  "  saying 
what  a  thing  is."  "  And  the  saying  what  a  thing  is,  is  the  say- 
ing what  it  is  like,  what  class  it  belongs  to."     (II,  131.) 

He  holds  to  the  immediate  knowledge  of  the  external  world 
in  perception,  "  The  thing  primarily  known  is  not  that  a  sensa- 
tion has  been  experienced,  but  that  there  exists  an  outer  ot> 
ject."     (11,369.) 

He  admits  that  there  is  a  real  substratum  of  material  exist- 
ence, but  affirms  that  this  reality  is  unknown  and  unknowable 
The  Cosmic  Philosophy  of  Prof.  John  Fiske  is  a  more  lumin 
ous  exposition  of  this  system  than  Mr.  Spencer's  own,  and 
comparatively  free  from  tedious  prolixity. 

We  must  now  turn  to  the  succession  of  writers  who  have 
opposed  both  the  idealistic  and  the  sensational  systems  arising 
from  Locke,  and  who  belong  chiefly  to  the  school  of  the  so- 
called  Scottish  philosophy. 

Thomas  Reid  (17 10-1796),  Professor  at  Edinburgh,  ex- 
plicitly reintroduced  those  "intuitions"  which  Locke  had 
implicitly  assumed,  under  the  authority  of  common-sense,  or 
the  necessary  beliefs  common  to  all  men.  He  was  a  natural 
realist  in  his  doctrine  of  perception,  though  not  always  clear  or 


Historical  Sketch.  145 

consistent.  He  taught  that  the  mind  is  active  in  perception, 
but  did  not  distinguish  between  natural  and  acquired  percep- 
tion. 

He  is  chiefly  known  to  the  present  generation  through  the 
elaborate  commentary  of  his  greatest  disciple,  Sir  W.  Hamilton, 
but  his  services  to  philosophy  were  important,  though  less 
brilliant  and  less  renowned  than  those  of  some  lesser  men. 

Sir  Wm.  Hamilton  (1 788-1 856),  was  the  foremost  in  learn- 
ing and  power  of  all  the  philosophers  whom  Great  Britain  has 
produced.  He  left  no  complete  treatises,  and  his  opinions 
have  to  be  gathered  from  his  lectures  to  students  and  his  notes 
on  the  works  of  Reid,  whose  disciple  he  was  in  the  main.  His 
writings  have  been  gathered  up  in  Wight's  "  Hamilton's  Phi- 
losophy," and  Bowen's  "  Hamilton's  Metaphysics." 

His  metaphysical  theories  were  largely  derived  from  Kant. 
His  law  of  the  conditioned  he  expressed  thus:  "  All  that  is 
conceivable  in  thought,  lies  between  two  extremes,  which,  as 
contradictory  of  each  other,  cannot  both  be  true,  but  of  which 
as  mutual  contradictories,  one  must."  To  illustrate  this  he 
drew  up  a  table  of  contradictions  similar  to  Kant's  antimonies. 

In  regard  to  perception,  he  was  a  natural  realist,  holding  that 
we  have  a  direct  knowledge  of  the  non-ego,  yet  there  is  some 
dispute  whether  by  the  non-ego  he  meant  the  qualities  of  mat- 
ter only,  or  matter  as  being.  He  insisted  on  the  distinction  be- 
tween sensation  and  perception,  and  .thus  did  good  service. 

We  have  quoted  Hamilton  so  often  already  that  further 
notice  here  is  unnecessary. 

Noah  Porter,  President  of  Yale  College,  may  be  called 
the  true  successor  of  Sir  W.  Hamilton.  Like  him,  he  has 
great  learning  but  is  not  a  system-builder.  Like  him,  he  is-  a 
natural  realist  but  qualifies  this  position  as  follows:  "  In  original 
perception,  the  object  directly  apprehended  is  the  sensorium  as 
excited  to  some  definite  action."     He  does  not  explain,  as  we 


146  The  Intellect. 

understand,  how  the  change  is  made  from  perceiving  the  sen- 
sorium  to  perceiving  the  object  through  the  sensorium.  For 
he  insists  that  the  object  in  complete  perception  is  not  the 
qualities  of  matter,  but  the  external  world  itself,  as  being.  He 
makes  prominent  the  distinction  between  sensation  and  percep- 
tion, and  also  that  between  natural  and  acquired  perception. 

He  teaches  that  the  intellect  is  active  in  "  sense-perception/' 
that  sensation  is  always  either  pleasant  or  painful.  He  dis- 
tinguishes two  kinds  of  consciousness,  and  three  non-egos. 
He  uses,  throughout,  the  word  "soul,"  where  others  use  "mind." 

President  Porter's  great  work,  The  Human  Intellect,  is  of 
immense  value  for  reference,  and  by  far  the  greatest  psycho- 
logical work  yet  produced  in  America. 

Many  other  names  of  great  philosophers  might  be  referred 
to,  but  we  have  preferred  to  select  a  few  of  the  greatest,  in  the 
hope  of  impressing  upon  the  student,  (1)  That  philosophy  has 
occupied  many  of  the  greatest  minds  of  the  race.  (2)  That  its 
conclusions  are  of  practical  importance  in  life.  (3)  That 
psychology  is  not  unprogressive,  but  advances  from  age  to  age 
in  the  defmiteness  of  its  problems,  in  the  clearness  of  its  con- 
clusions. A  vast  deal  of  vagueness  and  obscurity  has  been 
dissipated,  and  men  know,  at  least  far  better  than  of  old,  what 
they  are  disputing  about.  Moreover,  on  some  topics,  as  the 
sense  of  sight,  substantial  unanimity  has  been  reached;  while 
on  others  great  concessions  have  been  made  by  the  principal 
schools. 


PART     II. 

REPRESENTATIVE  POWER, 


The  representative  power  may  be  defined  as  the  power 
which  the  mind  has  of  entering  into  conscious  states  which  are 
similar  to  its  former  states  or  to  combinations  of  them.  It  is 
best  treated  under  the  heads  of  Memory,  Association,  and 
Imagination. 

I.  MEMORY. 

Memory  has  by  some  been  subdivided.  Sir  W.  Hamilton 
divides  it  into  three  separate  .powers,  called  Conservative, 
Reproductive,  and  Representative.  But  of  these  three  the 
first  two  are  only  auxiliary  to  the  third,  and  by  themselves  use- 
less, even  if  really  existing. 

It  would  be  of  no  use  to  preserve  knowledge  if  it  could  not 
be  reproduced,  that  is,  brought  up  again  by  the  unconscious 
power  of  association;  it  would  be  of  no  use  when  thus  associ- 
ated, if  it  could  not  be  represented,  that  is,  brought  fully  into 
conscious  possession.  Moreover,  the  way  in  which  retention 
takes  place  is  so  wholly  unknown,  and  so^  entirely  out  of  con- 
sciousness, that  it  is  a  gratuitous  assumption  to  say  that  there 
is  a  separate  power  of  the  mind  for  this  purpose. 

It  is  better  then  to  use  "retention"  or  "retentiveness"  of  the 
simple  capacity  of  not  forgetting,  which  is  not  an  act  of  the 
mind  at  all. 

The  word  "  memory,"  if  used  in  psychology,  ought  proba- 
bly to    be  restricted   to   this  meaning.     "  Recollection "    and 


148  '    The  Intellect. 

"reminiscence"  are  commonly  used  of  the  act  of  recalling  any 
fact  formerly  known,  by  means  of  association,  and  are  gener- 
ally defined  as  voluntary  reproduction.  But  strictly  speaking 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  voluntary  reproduction;  all  we  can  do 
is  to  set  in  motion  the  automatic,  unknown  machinery  of  as- 
sociation, and  wait  for  it  to  produce  the  result. 

Memory,  in  the  full,  complete  sense,  or  Recollection,  im- 
plies four  things.  (1)  A  state  of  consciousness  in  past  time. 
(2)  The  return  of  a  representation  of  that  state  to  conscious- 
ness, not  exactly  the  same  state  itself.  (3)  The  intuitive  knowl- 
edge that  this  new  state  is  a  representation  of  something  past, 
involving  the  element  of  time.  (4)  The  recognition  of  the 
past  state  as  having  belonged  to  the  same  ego,  involving  the 
element  of  self. 

Some  would  place  betveen  the  first  and  second  another  con- 
dition of  recollection,  namely  the  retention  of  some  trace  or 
sign  of  the  first  state  by  which  it  may  be  recalled.  But  of 
such  a  trace  we  really  know  nothing.  All  we  know  is  that  we 
experienced  a  certain  state,  and  when  a  proper  stimulus  occurs, 
starting  the  right  train  of  association,  a  representation  of  that 
state  appears  in  consciousness,  but  not  the  state  itself. 

It  is  taught  by  some  recent  writers  that  memory  is  a  repro- 
duction of  the  same  state,  only  weaker.  This  is  an  error. 
We  insist"  upon  the  self-evident  fact,  that  the  state  of  mind 
called  memory  is  not  the  same  in  kind  as  that  called  presen- 
tation, or  perception,  or  any  original  experience,  but  is  a  re- 
presentation, as  different  from  presentation  as  the  "idea"  of  a 
tree  is  from  a  tree,  or  the  picture  of  a  man  from  a  man. 

It  is  often  stated  by  recent  writers  on  the  subject  that  memory 
is  the  renewal  of  past  sensations  and  the  ideas  they  have  ex- 
cited. But  memory  does  not  reproduce  sensations.  If  a  sen- 
sation be  really  reproduced,  in  the  literal  meaning  of  the  term, 
it  is  even  then  a  new  sensation,  not  the  same  one;  and  if  it  be 
represented,  the  product  is  not  a  sensation  at  all. 


Memory.  149 

Thus,  if  you  are  nauseated  on  seeing  a  friend  go  on  board  a 
ship,  that  is  because  the  sight  of  the  ship,  with  all  the  associa- 
tions of  sea-sickness  formerly  experienced,  excites  reflex  sen- 
sations just  like  the  former  ones.  But  they  are  new  sensations, 
not  identical  with  the  old  ones;  and  they  are  real  sensations, 
not  ipere  representations  of  old  ones.  Memory  proper  has 
nothing  to  do  with  such  a  case. 

If  the  name  of  an  absent  friend  is  mentioned,  and  you 
picture  his  face  before  you  in  the  mind,  that  is  imagination,  not 
memory.  But  neither  is  it  sensation.  If  the  representation 
of  his  face  becomes  so  vivid  as  actually  to  excite  reflex  sensa- 
tions, so  that  you  think  you  see  him  before  you,  that  is  hallu- 
cination, not  memory.  The  number  of  persons  who  have  im- 
agination strong  enough  to  recall  a  face  so  as  to  paint  it, 
is  very  small;  though  very  many  can  compare  the  image  so 
produced  with  "  memory  "  (in  the  popular  sense)  and  decide 
as  to  the  faithfulness  of  the  picture.  It  is  easier,  too,  to  recall 
the  expression  of  a  face  than  to  picture  in  the  imagination  a 
representation  of  the  features,  because  the  expression  is  a  men- 
tal product  in  the  first  place. 

When  we  wish  to  recall  a  smell,  a  sound,  a  taste,  etc.,  we 
"  recall "  first  the  object  which  produced  it,  and  sometimes  the 
representation  excites  reflex  sensations  very  distinctly. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  recall  a  word  by  the  mere  sound  of  it 
as  heard,  or  the  looks  of  it  as  seen,  if  the  meaning  is  unknown. 
Few  can  do  it  at  all,  and  they  seem  to  do  it  by  imagination, 
reproducing  the  sound  or  form  of  the  word  "  before  the  mind's 
eye  or  ear." 

It  is  the  "  idea,"  the  mental  product,  the  presentation,  which 
is  reproduced  in  memory,  in  the  form  of  a  representation.  If 
this  is  strong  enough  it  may  excite  a  reflex  sensation,  like  the 
original  one,  not  identical  with  it.  The  representation  of  a 
sensation  or  group  of  sensations  is  imagination,  an  imaging 


150  The  Intellect. 

forth  by  the   mind  to  itself.     (Carpenter,  Mental   Physiology, 

431-) 

x  All  the  products  of  the  representative  power  are  subjective, 
thought  objects,  subject-objects.  They  cannot  be  compared 
with  object-objects  of  any  kind;  they  cannot  be  described. 
They  may  be  compared  with  other  subject-objects,  sensations, 
perceptions,  emotions,  as  men  may  be  compared  with  trees, 
houses,  beasts,  birds.  But  the  two  classes  of  objects  are  in- 
commensurable. 

It  has  been  remarked  by  various  writers,  including  even 
Hamilton,  that  the  wonderful  thing  and  hard  to  account  for,  is 
not  remembering,  but  forgetting.  This  remark  springs  from 
the  physical  analogies  which  have  long  been  common  in  con- 
nection with  this  subject,  and  which  modern  science  has  not 
weakened.  The  memory  used  to  be  compared  to  a  receptacle, 
a  casket;  to  shelves  and  pigeon-holes.  At  the  present  day  we 
hear  much  of  nerve-vibrations,  of  traces  left  in  the  brain,  of 
permanent  combinations  of  brain-cells,  etc. 

No  doubt  there  must  be  some  physical  machinery  of  memory, 
as  there  is  of  sensation  and  emotion.  Physiology  and  path- 
ology have  done  something,  and  may  do  much  more,  towards 
tracing  out  the  process  in  the  brain,  and  explaining  the  mechani- 
cal part  of  the  problem.  But  if  all  this  were  made  as  plain  as 
the  optical  part  of  vision  has  been  made  by  modern  science, 
this  would  not  go  one  step  toward  solving  the  real  difficulty  of 
the  case,  namely,  how  a  trace  in  the  brain  can.  be  transmuted 
into  conscious  memory,  or  how  permanent  connections  of 
brain-cells  can  appear  in  consciousness  as  associated  sensations 
or  "ideas." 

The  problem  is  the  same  which  confronts  us   in  studying 
<•  sensation.     If  we  can  no  more  tell  how  a  nerve-thrill  can  oc- 
casion a  state  of  consciousness  than  how  the  Djinri  appeared 
when  Aladdin  rubbed  his  lamp   (Huxley),  we  are  equally  un- 


Memory.  15* 

able,  of  course,  to  tell  why  a  trace  in  the  brain  should  occa- 
sion a  representation  of  consciousness,  and  why  a  connection 
of  such  traces  should  cause  ideas  to  adhere  together,  or  why 
the  decadence  of  such  traces  should  cause  disappearance  of 
these  representative  states.  The  question  of  forgetting  is  no 
more  difficult  and  no  easier  than  that  of  remembering,  and 
both  are  utterly  inexplicable. 

Many  of  the  facts,  however,  which  tend  to  show  the  depend- 
ence of>  memory  on  the  brain,  and  which  are  relied  on  to  ex- 
plain memory  by  some  writers,  who  are  forgetful  of  the  above 
considerations,  are  very  curious  and  instructive. 

Disease  affects  the  memory  most  strangely.  In  the  delirium 
of  fever,  an  ignorant  woman  once  repeated  long  passages  of 
Hebrew  which  she  had  heard  many  years  before,  and  of  which 
she  had  never  understood  a  word.  Many  foreigners,  long  set- 
tled in  America,  having  nearly  forgotten  their  native  tongue, 
have  been  known  to  return  to  its  use  on  their  death-bed.  Dr. 
Scandella,  ill  with  yellow  fever,  spoke  on  the  first  day  French 
only,  on  the  second  English  only,  but  on  the  day  of  his  death 
only  Italian,  his  native  language.  (Ribot,  Diseases  of  the 
Memory.) 

Sir  Henry  Holland,  when  overcome  with  fatigue  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a  mine  in  Germany,  forgot  the  German  language  com- 
pletely; but  it.  was  restored  to  him  by  rest  and  food.  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  having  composed  his  romance  of  Ivanhoe  in  ill- 
ness, could  not  afterwards  recall  a  single  incident  or  character 
in  it.  A  person  has  been  known  to  forget,  after  a  violent  ill- 
ness, all  his  acquired  knowledge,  which  however  returned  to 
him  instantaneously,  some  months  afterward.  After  a  severe 
injury  to  the  head,  the  patient  usually  forgets  not  only  the  ac- 
cident itself  but  all  events  which  occurred  within  several  hours 
previous.  A  well  educated  man,  after  an  attack  of  fever  and 
ague,  lost,  it  is  said,  all  knowledge  of  the  letter  f.     (Winsiow.) 


152  The  Intellect. 

Somnambulists  often  remember  during  one  fit  of  somnam- 
bulism what  they  did,  or  suffered,  or  where  they  hid  articles,  dur- 
ing the  previous  attack,  but  cannot  so  remember  in  the  inter- 
vening time. 

It  is  quite  certain  that  there  are  different  kinds  of  memory, 
corresponding  to  the  different  kinds  of  mental  aptitude,  or  to 
peculiarities  of  sensation.  Some  persons,  nearly  idiotic,  have 
had  a  wonderful  memory  for  words.  Some  remember  words 
best,  some  principles,  some  events,  some  numbers;  some  re- 
call sights  best,  some  sounds. 

Led  by  such  analogies  some  writers  have  maintained  that 
there  is  no  general  faculty  of  memory,  but  that  each  of  the 
senses  has  its  own  memory.  This  of  course  involves  the  sen- 
sational view  of  the  mental  functions.  But  even  on  that  view 
it  would  be  more  consistent  to  say  that  memory  is  a  general 
function  of  the  nervous  system. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  memory  is  as  much  dependent  on 
the  nerves  and  brain  as  other  mental  functions,  but  there  is 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  it  is  more  so,  and  no  satisfactory 
hypothesis  has  yet  been  constructed  of  the  manner  and  extent 
of  this  physiological  dependence. 

To  the  theory  that  memory  is  a  function  of  the  immaterial 
part  of  the  mind,  the  soul,  it  has  been  objected  that  it  is  in- 
conceivable that  the  soul,  which  is  an  undivided  unit,  existing 
in  a  single  point  of  space,  can  retain  a  vast  number  of  dis- 
tinct impressions,  and  be  able  to  reproduce  a  corresponding 
number  of  states.  But  this  is  an  argument  ex  ignorantia.  We 
do  not  really  know  anything  about  the  mode  of  existence  of 
the  soul,  whether  it  is  an  absolutely  unitary  being,  or  has 
parts  and  powers;  whether  it  exists  in  one  or  many  points 
of  space,  or  inhabits  the  whole  brain.  Lotze  holds  that  the 
soul  is  a  single  element,  and  of  simple  quality,  but  yet  may  be 
present  at  more  than  one  point  of  space  at  the  same  time. 


Memory.  153 

The  same  argument  may  be  retorted  against  the  materialists. 
It  is  inconceivable  that  the  almost  infinite  number  of  separate 
elements  which  go  to  make  up  the  series  of  our  mental  life, 
should  be  each  one  represented  by  a  combination  of  brain- 
cells.  Each  spoken  word,  for  instance,  has  several  sounds, 
and  each  sound  is  produced  by  several  impulses  of  the  vocal 
organs.  Each  written  word  also  has  several  letters,  and  the 
combinations  between  the  sounds  and  the  letters  form  another 
vast  series.  Yet  many  persons  have  at  command  as  many  as 
ten  thousand  words.  Some  can  use  fluently  three  or  more 
languages,  with  command  of  three  or  four  thousand  words  in 
each.  Then,  a  prodigy  of  learning  occasionally  arises  who  knows 
twenty  languages,  is  familiar  with  a  hundred  authors,  can  re- 
peat whole  volumes,  and  knows  a  dozen  sciences.  Add  to 
this  the  vast  number  of  elements  of  knowledge  comprised  in 
our  daily  life,  all  our  knowledge  of  places,  persons,  facts,  the 
properties  of  matter,  etc.,  and  the  number  of  separate  things 
remembered  will  be  seen  to  be  vastly  greater  than  the  four 
hundred  million  nucleated  cells,  computed  to  exist  in  the 
brain. 

But  each  act  of  the  brain  must  involve  more  than  one  cell, 
probably  many  thousands;  they  cannot  leave  their  places  to 
enter  new  situations,  and  if  they  could  do  so  registration 
would  thereby  be  lost.  Thus  even  the  physical  difficulties  of 
this  scheme  are  insuperable,  and  we  conclude  that  the  fact  of 
retention  is  inexplicable. 

The  process  of  reproduction  is  capable  of  some  further 
elucidation  through  the  principle  of  association,  under  which 
head  we  shall  recur  to  some  phenomena  of  memory. 


154  The  Intellect. 

II.     ASSOCIATION. 

This  principle  accompanies  or  pervades  nearly  every  activ- 
ity of  the  mind.  We  have  already  seen  that  different  sensa- 
tions, occasioned  by  the  same  object,  cohere  together,  so  that 
any  one  will  suggest  all  the  rest,  and  occasion  a  complete  pre- 
sentation of  the  object;  also,  that  a  sensation,  being  once 
found  by  experience  to  be  a  sign  of  distance  or  solidity,  ever 
afterwards  suggests  that  perception,  when  it  is  repeated.  So, 
peculiar  sensations  may  be  associated  with  certain  perceptions, 
as  nausea  with  the  sight  of  a  ship,  in  the  example  cited  above. 
Or,  perceptions  and  emotions  may  be  agglutinated.  A  dog  is 
filled  with  fear  at  the  sight  of  a  whip.  A  timid  person  shud- 
ders at  seeing  a  gun.  A  familiar  tune  may  excite  emotions  of 
joy  or  of  sadness  according  to  the  circumstances  of  the 
hearer. 

Professor  Bain  has  described  various  modes  of  association, 
with  remarkable  minuteness  and  concreteness;  showing,  for 
example,  how  it  applies  to  the  use  of  language,  to  mechanical 
inventions,  to  the  fine  arts,  to  oratory,  to  poetry,  to  business, 
to  handicrafts,  etc.  This  has  been  called  a  ';  natural  history 
of  the  human  mind."  It  is  ingenious,  instructive,  and  inter- 
esting, but  it  throws  no  light  on  the  law  or  cause  of  associa- 
tion. 

The  operation  of  this  principle  can  only  be  observed  in 
connection  with  representation.  We  cannot  know  whether 
sensations  or  presentations  cohere  together,  until  they  are  rep- 
resented together  in  memory  or  imagination.  Hence  the  laws 
of  association  are  always  stated  in  a  form  which  implies  repre- 
sentation. 

The  njost  general  law  of  association  is  this: — Ideas  tend  to 
be  represented  together  which  were  formed  together  or  near 
one  another  in  any  sense,  that  is,  in  time,  place,  interest,  emo- 


Association.,  155 

tion,  action,  dependence,  cause,  or  any  relation  in  which  they 
can  coexist.  The  principle  on  which  this  depends  is  that  the 
mind  acts  more  readily  in  the  same  manner  or  a  similar  man- 
ner with  any  in  which  it  has  acted  before. 

Sir  W.  Hamilton,  following  St.  Augustine  and  others,  states 
the  law  as  follows; — "  Thoughts  suggest  each  other  which  had 
previously  constituted  parts  of  the  same  entire  or  total  act  of 
cognition."  He  calls  this  a  law  of  redintegration.  But  if 
literally  interpreted  this  law  does  not  include  all  the  phe- 
nomena. Mere  similarity  is  often  the  connecting  link  between 
ideas,  and  so  is  contrast;  but  these  are  not  naturally  or  easily 
included  under  redintegration. 

Aristotle  laid  down  three  laws  of  association,  namely,  that 
ideas  are  associated  by  contiguity  in  time  or  space,  by  re- 
semblance, and  by  contrariety.  Other  schemes  have  been 
proposed.  Hume  gives  resemblance,  contiguity  in  time  and 
place,  and  cause  and  effect.  Dr.  T.  Brown  introduced  a  two- 
fold classification  of  primary  and  secondary  laws.  For  the 
first  he  adopted  Aristotle's  three  laws;  by  the  second  he  at- 
tempted to  show  why,  when  several  ideas  are  in  equally  close 
association  with  the  suggesting  idea,  according  to  the  primary 
laws,  only  one  is  actually  suggested.  The  secondary  princi- 
ples are  such  as  vivacity,  frequency  of  repetition,  recentness, 
the  amount  of  interest  or  emotion  involved,  the  natural  pre- 
disposition of  body  or  mind,  of  which  he  gives  nine.  But 
obviously  such  a  list  could  be  drawn  out  indefinitely,  for  any 
object  may  have  a  vast  number  of  associations.  For  example, 
if  gems  are  spoken  of,  we  think  of  the  diamond  as  the  finest; 
if  hardness  is  mentioned,  we  recall  the  diamond  as  the  hardest 
of  minerals;  if  combustibility,  we  recall  the  diamond,  and  Sir 
Isaac  Newton's  prediction  of  its  combustibility  from  its  re- 
fracting power;  if  refracting  power,  the  same;  if  preciousness, 
we  recall  the  diamond  in  that  connection,  and  so  on.     It  is 


156  The  Intellect. 

not  worth  while  to  attempt  to  classify  these.     One  example  is 
as  good  as  a  thousand. 

We  must  beware  of  attributing  efficiency  to  the  laws  or  rules 
which  have  been  discovered  in  association,  or  the  principles  on 
which  it  may  be  supposed  to  act.  Laws,  rules,  and  principles 
of  action  in  nature,  are  only  abstractions  from  actual  phenom- 
ena, not  real  beings  which  guide  e\*ents.  The  error  is  one  not 
infrequent  in  all  science,  and  needs  no  special  attention  in 
psychology.  A  relation  between  two  ideas  is  an  abstraction, 
and  can  have  no  real  efficiency.  Ideas  do  not  appear  in  con- 
sciousness together  because  there  is  a  relation  between  them, 
but  the  mind,  which  formed  them  in  the  first  place,  recalls 
them,  and  for  some  unknown  reason  recalls  those  more  easily 
which  it  first  formed  together,  and  this  we  call  a  relation  be- 
tween the  ideas. 

Association  throws  some  light  on  the  process  of  reproduc- 
tion. Obviously  the  simplest  case  of  reproduction,  would  be 
one  in  which  the  whole  series  of  our  past  ideas  was  recalled 
successively,  being  associated  by  the  principle  of  contiguity  in 
time,  until  that  idea  is  reached  which  fits  in  with  our  present 
experience. 

Something  like  this  has  occurred  to  persons  in  extreme  dan- 
ger, as  while  falling  over  a  precipice,  or  when  almost  drowned. 
In  such  cases  the  sufferer  sometimes  sees,  as  it  were,  all  the 
events  of  his  life  sweeping  before  him  with  inconceivable  rapid- 
ity, so  that  he  seems  to  live  over  again  his  whole  life  in  a 
moment  of  time.  In  repeating  a  "  piece  "  one  is  often  obliged 
to  begin  again  at  the  beginning,  and  can  then  go  through 
without  hesitation.  Dr.  Leyden,  who  was  celebrated  for  his 
extraordinary  memory,  could  repeat  an  act  of  Parliament,  or 
any  long  document,  after  once  reading  it.  "  But  when  he 
wished  to  recall  any  particular  point  in  anything  which  he  had 
read,  he  could  only  do  it  by  repeating  to  himself  the  whole  '* 
from  the  beginning  to  that  place.     (Abercrombie.) 


Association.  157 

Now,  taking  a  case  of  this  sort,  as  the  simplest  one,  suppose 
the  series  of  ideas  to  be  represented  byAbCdeFgHij 
K,  etc.,  where  the  large  letters  stand  for  the  more  important 
ideas,  and  the  small  letters  for  the  less  important  ones.  Then 
the  less  important  ideas,  serving  only  the  office,  in  that  partic- 
ular series,  of  connecting  together  the  more  important  ones, 
might  be  dropped  out,  during  frequent  repetitions  of  the  series, 
and  only  the  latter  would  remain,  and  would  be  associated 
together,  so  as  to  recall  or  suggest  one  another.  We  may  sup- 
pose this  process  repeated  until  A  is  connected  directly  with  Z, 
and,  the  next  time  Z  comes  into  consciousness,  this  new 
coherence  being  established,  A  will  be  suggested  immediately. 

Or  we  may  suppose  that  a  new  principle  intervenes  and 
supersedes  that  of  contiguity  in  time,  when  the  series  is  re- 
peated. For  example,  some  of  the  ideas,  A  C  F  H,  etc.,  may 
refer  to  the  same  subject.  Then,  on  repetition  of  the  series, 
the  next  step  would  be  to  drop  out  such  steps  as  do  not  be- 
long to  that  subject,  and  the  new  series  might  be  A  C  F  H  R 
Z,  from  which  would  result  after  a  few  more  repetitions,  the 
so-called  immediate  coherence  of  A  and  Z. 

Something  like  this  seems  to  occur  when  we  try  to  think  of 
a  name  and  are  at  first"  unable  to  do  so,  because  we  cannot  get 
hold  of  any  short  series  of  links  between  the  present  idea  and 
the  past  one.  In  such  cases  what  is  needed  is  time  for  the 
machinery  of  reproduction  to  operate.  >4  Guided  by  experience 
we  always  say,  "  no  matter,  it  will  come  to  me,"  and  remove 
our  attention  from  the  matter.  Very  often  the  automatic 
apparatus  of  suggestion  does  actually  reproduce  the  name  after 
a  time,  and,  if  the  process  is  repeated  with  the  same  name 
after  a  few  hours,  it  is  much  shorter,  and  finally  the  connection 
becomes  "  immediate." 

Another  indication  of  the  correctness  of  this  analysis  is  the 
fact  that  some  past  events,  having  become  established  in  con- 


158  The  Intellect. 

sciousness  by  frequent  reference,  owing  to  their  importance 
for  our  life,  are  far  more  distinctly  and  exactly  placed  in  our 
recollection  than  others.  Hence  we  use  them  as  reference- 
points  for  more  quickly  reproducing  the  latter.  Thus  we  say, 
"I  remember  the  storm  of  May  3,  1874,  because  it  was  the 
day  before  I  was  married."  Old  people  commonly  reinforce 
their  statements  in  this  way:  "  Brother  Joshua  came  to  visit  us 
in  the  year  i865;'because  he  was  here  when  the  news  of  Lin- 
coln's assassination  arrived."  In  courts  of  justice  those  wit- 
nesses are  always  esteemed  the  best  who  remember  events  in 
their  connection,  recalling  them  by  several  threads,  and  giving 
parallel,  associated  events,  by  which  to  check  the  correctness 
of  the  principal  ones.  Shakespeare  understood  this.  Dame 
Quickly  says,  in  Henry  IV,  "  Thou  didst  swear  to  me  upon  a 
parcel-gilt  goblet,  sitting  in  my  dolphin  chamber,  at  the  round 
table,  by  a  sea-coal  fire,  upon  Wednesday  in  Whitsun-week, 
when  the  prince  broke  thy  head  for  liking  his  father  to  a  sing- 
ing-man of  Windsor;  thou  didst  swear  to  me  then,  as  I  was 
washing  thy  wound,  to  marry  me,  and  make  me  my  Lady  thy 
wife." 

According  to  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  memory,  when  it  is 
"  immediate  "  or  perfect,  is  automatic,  like  instinct,  a  part  of 
organization;  and  only  associative  or  suggestive  memory  really 
deserves  the  name.  "  Instinct  may  be  regarded  as  a  kind  of 
organized  memory,  memory  may  be  regarded  as  a  kind  of  in- 
cipient instinct."  (Psychology,  I,  445.)  "Memory  necessa- 
rily comes  into  existence  whenever  automatic  action  is  imper- 
fect." (448.)  "  As  fast  as  those  connections  among  psychical 
states  which  we  form  in  memory  grow  by  constant  repetition 
automatic,  they  cease  to  be  a  part  of  memory."     (450.) 

If  we  correctly  understand  this  distinction,  it  agrees  with 
the  view  already  given.  The  real  difference  in  the  two  kinds 
of  memory  is  in  the  length  of  the  process,  the  number  of  in- 


Dreams.  159 

tervening  suggestive  links.  When  these  are  all  dropped,  as 
explained  above,  the  connection  "between  psychical  states" 
becomes  immediate,  that  is,  automatic.  But,  properly  speak- 
ing, all  associative  suggestion  is  automatic  or  unconscious. 

Associative  representation  is  the  chief  activity  of  the  mind  in 
dreams,  somnambulism,  hypnotism,  and  hallucination,  making 
a  transition  to  the  subject  of  the  imagination.  In  these,  asso- 
ciation has  its  own  way,  unrestricted  by  either  the  will,  or  the 
actual  facts  of  the  external  world. 

1.  Dreams. 

In  sleep  the  circulation  of  the  blood  in  the  brain  is  checked 
and  almost  suspended;  hence  there  is  not  enough  activity  in 
the  nerve-centers  to  produce  motion  in  response  to  a  stimulus 
either  of  the  sense  from  without  or  of  the  mind  from  within. 
All  the  senses  are  partly  dormant,  and  the  sensations  which  are 
received  become  so  feeble  that  they  only  recall  past  ideas. 
Since  communication  with  the  external  world  is  suspended,  the 
ordinary  checks  upon  representation,  furnished  by  the  relations 
of  space  and  time  are  wanting,  and  the  various  elements  of 
our  experience  are  combined  in  lawless,  fantastic  fashion.  We 
have  no  sense  of  incongruity,  in  dreams,  when  we  suddenly 
find  ourselves  in  a  distant  city,  nor  when  we  spend  an  hour  in 
crossing  a  street  or  ascending  a  stairway. 

That  the  will  is  dormant,  and  the  mind  wholly  under  the 
sway  of  association,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  dreams  are  some- 
times inspired  by  whispering  in  the  ear  of  a  sleeping  person. 
A  young  military  officer  was  once  caused  in  this  way  to  fight  a 
duel  in  a  dream.  He  thought  that  he  was  insulted,  challenged, 
taken  to  the  field,  and  that  he  killed  his  antagonist.  But,  be. 
ing  told  to  fly,  his  efforts  to  do  so  awakened  him. 

Nearly  every  one  knows  the  terrible  night-mare  sensation  of 
being  unable,  in  a  dream,  to  move,  in  order  to  escape  from 
danger.     This  is  undoubtedly  a  real  experience,  expressing  the 


160  The  Intellect. 

actual  fact.  The  representative  power  is  active,  but  the  slug- 
gish brain  cannot  respond  to  it  by  moving  the  limbs.  Homer 
compares  the  pursuit  of  Hector  by  Achilles  around  the  walls 
of  Troy*  to  such  a  dream.     (Iliad,  Bk.  22,  Line  200.) 

It  is  a  wonderful  part  of  the  phenomena  of  dreaming  that 
we  remember  our  dreams.  This  is  largely  an  acquired  power. 
Persons  who  tell  their  dreams,  soon  learn  to  remember  them 
and  to  have  them  oftener.  Those  who  never  tell  them  seldom 
remember  them. 

The  cause  of  dreaming  and  the  cause  of  the  particular  dream 
which  occurs,  may  be  quite  distinct.  Thus  one  may  dream, 
perhaps,  because  he  ate  too  much  supper,  or  because  he  is 
lying  on  his  back,  or  because  the  wind  makes  a  gentle  noise; 
but  he  dreams  of  being  at  sea  because  he  read  about  a  ship 
the  day  before;  or  dreams  about  home  because  he  is  away  from 
home.  Dr.  Gregory  relates  that  once,  having  a  bottle  of  hot 
water  at  his  feet,  he  dreamed  that  he  was  walking  on  Mount 
Etna.  A  person  who  had  a  blister  on  his  head  dreamed  that 
he  was  scalped  by  Indians. 

Since  all  outside  distractions  or  checks  are  removed-  in 
dreams,  if  any  one  subject  or  train  of  thought  has  excited  the 
mind  while  awake,  to  such  an  extent  that  the  mind  spontan- 
eously dwells  upon  it,  excluding  other  suggestions,  some  very . 
surprising  results  appear,  though  really  no  more  inexplicable 
than  any  dream.  Thus,  Coleridge  composed  the  poem  of 
Kubla  Khan  in  a  dream.  Dr.  Franklin  often  unraveled  politi- 
cal combinations  in  his  dreams.  Condorcet  habitually  solved 
mathematical  problems  in  his  sleep.  This  kind  of  dreaming 
runs  into  somnambulism;  for  the  dreamer  sometimes  rises  and 
writes  down  the  problem  or  stanza  in  his  sleep,  though  he  does 
not  remember,  when  he  awakes,  that  he  has  done  so. 

This  phenomenon  has  been  called  "unconscious  cerebration" 
(Carpenter),  "  unconscious  mental  modification  "  (Hamilton), 


Somnambulism.  161 

"insensible  perception"  (Leibnitz),  etc.  Various  theories  of 
brain-action  have  been  devised  to  explain  it.  Great  numbers 
of  wonderful  examples  have  been  accumulated,  and  may  be 
found  in  easily  accessible  books.  But  there  can  be  no  proof 
that  this  kind  of  mental  action  is  unconscious,  at  the  time;  but 
only  that  it  is  not  remembered.   . 

There  is  no  necessity  for  assuming  any  new  principle,  other 
than  associative  suggestion,  in  connection  with  dreaming  or 
somnambulism.  The  facts  all  come  under  these.  In  some 
cases  a  dream  of  this  kind  is  forgotten,  while  the  results  remain 
in  the  mind,  and  a  problem  can  be  solved  or  a  thought  expressed 
which  could  not  be  before.  But  this  does  not  show  that  the 
activity  of  the  mind  was  unconscious  at  the  time. 

Some  writers  have  failed  to  distinguish  between  this  phe* 
nomenon  and  ordinary  associative  recollection,  and  have  con- 
fused together  the  examples  of  both.  "  Unconscious  cerebra- 
tion "  is  only  mysterious  and  inexplicable  in  fact,  just  as  all 
association,  and  indeed  all  mental  action  is  so.  On  dreaming, 
in  general,  see  also  Sully,  Illusions,  Chapter  7. 
2.  Somnambulism. 

Somnambulism  is  an  acted  dream.  In  this  the  motor  cen- 
ters and  nerves  have  sufficient  circulation  to  support  activity, 
while  some  of  the  senses  are  still  dormant.  Representation 
goes  on  and  is  acted  out,  and  the  patient's  consciousness  is  the 
same  as  in  a  dream. 

In  this  state  many  strange  occurrences  take  place,  due  to 
concentration  of  the  mind  on  one  topic.  Those  senses  which 
are  not  dormant  are  in  a  state  of  exalted  activity,  and  the  pa- 
tient performs  so  many  actions,  guided  by  touch  alone,  or 
touch  and  hearing,  with  eyes  firmly  fixed  and  sightless,  that 
observers  feel  certain  he  can  see  through  a  wall,  or  see  with  the 
back  of  his  head  or  with  his  hand. 


1 62  The  Intellect. 

No  extravagant  supposition  of  new  senses  or  strange  spirit- 
ual powers  is  necessary.  The  somnambulist  is  like  a  blind 
person,  who  learns  more  by  touch  than  other  people  do  be- 
cause he  concentrates  his  attention  upon  it. 

3.  Hypnotism. 

The  state  called  somnambulism  can  be  induced  artificially, 
and  is  then  called  hypnotism,  or  mesmeric  sleep.  In  this  state 
the  phenomena  of  sleep  and  somnambulism  are  curiously 
blended.  The  will  being  entirely  dormant,  the  patient's  ac- 
tions are  a  dream  suggested  by  the  operator,  like  the  duel  de- 
scribed above.  He  sees  flames  of  fire  issuing  from  a  magnet, 
sees  them  where  the  operator  says  there  is  a  magnet,  even  if 
none  be  really  there.  His  thoughts  and  actions  are  at  the 
mercy  Of  associative  suggestion. 

This  state  may  even  be  voluntarily  assumed  by  some  persons. 
It  has  been  known  in  many  countries  and  ages  in  the  form  of 
religious  trance  or  extasy.  The  spiritualistic  trance-speaker,  if 
not  an  imposter,  is  in  this  state.  He  speaks  much  more  flu- 
ently than  he  could  in  his  natural  condition,  because  his  at- 
tention is  concentrated  on  his  language,  and  all  distractions 
are  excluded.  But  he  says  nothing  new,  nothing  which  he  did 
not  know  before,  and  nothing  of  any  importance.  Persons  in 
this  state,  however,  sometimes  recall  things  which  they  had  for- 
gotten and  could  not  recall  in  their  normal  condition.  Many 
of  these  phenomena  are  best  discussed  in  connection  with  the 
subject  of  the  Will. 

4.     Hallucination. 

Hallucination  is  a  waking  dream.  Owing  to  some  disorder 
of  the  brain,  caused  by  disease  or  the  action  of  opium,  alco- 
hol, haschish,  etc.,  the  ideas  called  up  by  association,  as  in 
dreams,  excite  the  nerves  and  centers  of  vision,  and  produce 
subjective  or  reflex  sensations  of  sight.  Nearly  all  patients  in. 
violent  fever  suffer  in  this  way. 


Imagination.  163 

The  case  of  Brutus  has  been  mentioned.  The  case  of 
Nicolai",  a  bookseller  of  Berlin,  is  famous  anchtypical.  But  the 
phenomena  are  too  common  and  too  slight  in  psychological 
importance  to  justify  further  attention  here. 

Representation  here  goes  on,  and  excites  a  reflex  activity  of 
the  visual  centers,  as  somnambulism  of  the  motor  centers. 
For  further  details  and  examples,  see  Sully  on  Illusions. 

III.     IMAGINATION. 

By  all  these  abnormal  phenomena  of  association  the  trans- 
ition is  made  to  the  imagination,  which  is  association,  guided 
by  the  will  and  watched  by  consciousness,  and  thus  having 
the  appearance  of  a  creative  power.  Two  observations  were 
long  ago  made  which  confirm  this  explanation.  (1)  Imagina- 
tion produces  nothing  absolutely  new,  but  only  combines  ob- 
jects in  new  ways,  or  parts  of  objects  to  make  up  new  wholes, 
or  changes  the  properties  of  objects,  or  alters  the  degree  or 
proportion  of  their  different  qualities.  (2)  Imagination  is 
confined  to  material  things,  objects  of  sense.  This  last  is 
only  true  of  the  ordinary,  established  use  of  the  term  imagi- 
nation.. It  is  often  used  now  in  a  figurative,  extended  sense, 
as  we  shall  see. 

In  imagination  the  wider  excursions.of  the  suggestive  power 
are  restrained  by  the  will,  the  relations  of  space  and  time  are 
not  lost  sight  of,  because  the  senses  are  not  dormant,  and  all 
is  normal.  As  already  said,  imagination,  in  its  usual  meaning, 
is  the  power  of  representing  objects.  To  recall  a  face  so  that 
you  can  paint  it,  is  an  act  of  imagination  in  the  ordinary  sense. 
To  form  from  this  face  a  different  one,  by  heightening  the  ex- 
pression, improving  some  features,  adding  beauty  or  any  pe- 
culiar character,  is  called  an  act  of  creative  imagination,  and 
the  face  thus  produced  is  called  an  ideal  face. 

The  different  activities  of  the  imagination  have  often, 
been  distinguished  and   classified.     Sir  W,    Hamilton  limits 


164  The  Intellect. 

the  word  to  its  literal  meaning,  and  says  that  the  terms 
productive  and  creative  are  very  improperly  applied  to  the 
imagination.  President  Porter  distinguishes  three  offices  of 
the  imagination,  (1)  the  combining  and  arranging  office,  (2) 
the  idealizing  office,  (3)  the  office  of  forming  standards  of  action. 
But  he  adds  four  special  applications  of  the  imagination, — 
the  poetic,  the  philosophic,  the  ethical,  and  the  religious. 
And  it  must  be  noticed  that  he  treats  of  the  phantasy  as  a 
separate  division  of  the  representative  power,  including  some 
things  which  most  writers  place  under  imagination. 

We  propose  the  following  division  of  the  field  of  activity  of 
the  imagination  into  five  parts.  (1)  Imagination  in  the  com- 
mon, literal  meaning.  (2)  Reverie.  (3)  Poetic  or  artistic 
imagination.  (4)  Mechanical  or  scientific.  (5)  Ethical  or 
moral.  In  every  one  of  these  the  imagination  produces  the 
ideal  by  combining  the  real.     It  has  but  one  method. 

1.  Ordinary  imagination  is  the  representation  of  objects 
when  they  are  out  of  actual  sight,  so  that  they  appear  before 
the  mind's  eye  just  as  they  really  are.  The  difference  between 
this  and  the  activities  of  associative  representation  noticed 
above,  dreaming,  hypnotism,  etc.,  is  that  they  are  all  abnormal, 
some  part  of  the  mental  force  being  dormant,  while  this  is  per- 
fectly normal  and  regular. 

This  view  is  confirmed  by  the  following  definitions.  "  The 
image  making  power.  The  power  to  create  or  reproduce  an 
object  of  sense  previously  perceived."  (The  Webster  Die.) 
"  The  faculty  of  representation  by  which  the  mind  keeps  be- 
fore it  an  image  of  visible  forms."  (Calderwood.)  "  Mental 
representation  of  the  absent  object,  'passive  imagination.'" 
(Krauth.)  "  Imagination  as  reproductive,  stores  the  mind 
with  ideal  images,  constructed  through  the  medium  of  atten- 
tion and  memoiy,  out  of  our  immediate  perceptions."  (Mor- 
ell.)     Shakespeare  compares  it  with  the  poet's  pen. 


Imagination.  165 

"...     as  imagination  bodies  forth 
The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 
Turns  them  to  shapes,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name." 

Simple  imagination  has  decided  limitations,  (a)  It  is  con- 
fined to  things  actually  seen  or  known,  either  directly  or 
through  descriptions  and  pictures.  A  person  born  on  the 
prairie,  who  has  never  seen  a  mountain,  cannot  imagine  one. 
One  who  has  never  been  at  sea  cannot  picture  to  himself  the 
raging  deep.  The  dweller  in  the  tropics  cannot  imagine  the 
arctic  ice.  But  all  can  body  forth  before  the  mind,  to  some 
extent,  the  descriptions  they  have  heard  and  the  pictures  they 
have  seen. 

(b)  It  is  limited  to  natural  objects  and  qualities.  It  cannot 
produce  a  new  color,  present  an  object  out  of  space,  an  event- 
out  of  time,  or  a  pure  unembodied  spirit.  But  it  can  com- 
bine arbitrarily  all  natural  forms  and  qualities;  it  can  create 
centaurs,  the  heads  of  men  on  the  bodies  of  horses;  or  mer- 
maids, part  woman,  part  fish;  or  angels,  beautiful  women  with 
wings;  mice  as  large  as  elephants;  diamonds  as  large  as  houses; 
a  nation  of  pigmies,  or  of  giants,  or  of  fairies;  a  Titania,  a 
Caliban,  a  Satan,  all  the  heroes  of  romance. 

Imagination  sometimes  interferes  with  the  correctness  of 
narrative,  making  it  untruthful  by  interpolating  objects  trans- 
planted from  other  senses  or  evoked  by  association.  Old  per- 
sons sometimes  relate  having  seen  events  which  occurred  be- 
fore they  were  born,  the  descriptions  heard  in  childhood  being 
reproduced  by  the  imagination  as  actual  experiences. 

2.  Reverie  is  a  voluntary,  waking  dream.  The  subject  of  it 
gives  himself  up  to  the  power  of  association,  and  imagines  him- 
self passing  through  a  series  of  events  or  experiences  of  va- 
rious kinds.  This  power  may  be  cultivated  by  practice  until 
reverie  becomes  as  capricious,  as  absorbing,  as  apparently 
real  as  a  dream.     It  may  become  a  confirmed  habit,  a  luxury, 


166  The  Intellect. 

a  dissipation.     It   produces   new   experiences   by  combining 

events  known    or  heard  of,  in   a   series,  making   personages, 

themselves    the    creation    of  a   similar  process,  pass  through 

pleasing  or  diverting  scenes,  like  a  stage-play.     The  poet  and 

the    novelist    can   use    this  half-conscious  play  of   associative 

representation  to  weave  their  tales,  as  the  kaleidoscope  is  used 

by  designers  of  new  patterns  for  carpets  and  wall-papers. 

3.  In  the  poetic  or  artistic  imagination  we  approach  more 

nearly   what   is    called   the   creative   power   of    this    faculty. 

Shakespeare  says, 

"The  lunatic,  the  lover,  and  the  poet, 
Are  of  imagination  all  compact." 

Here  the  ideal  element  begins  to  be  felt.  It  is  not  easy  to  de- 
fine the  ideal.  Some  have  even  denied  its  existence,  and  held 
that  the  imagination  only  combines  the  disjecta  membra  of  ex- 
perience. But  the  testimony  of  the  most  elevated,  noblest 
minds  is  very  general  to  the  existence,  value,  and  force  of  an 
ideal  element. 

We  do  not  indeed  affirm  that  the  ideal  is  a  product  solely  of 
the  imagination,  nor  would  we  say  that  it  is  formed  or  con- 
structed by  any  faculty.  It  is  a  way  of  viewing  certain  subjects, 
a  method  of  thought  and  a  style  of  feeling,  a  product  of  the 
emotional  and  reasoning  powers,  combined  with  the  imagina- 
tion. 

The  painter,  the  sculptor,  the  poet,  the  orator,  have  lofty 
views  of  the  value  of  their  respective  arts,  deep  feelings  ex- 
cited by  great  excellence,  strong  desires  to  attain  what  is 
worthy,  a  thorough  conviction  that  great  success  is  attainable 
in  these  arts.  Now,  a  wide  knowledge  of  art  and  literature, 
gained  under  the  impulse  of  such  feelings  and  convictions  as 
these,  not  merely  furnishes  the  imagination  with  a  stock  of  ma- 
terials, and  supplies  the  mind  with  the  loftiest  standards  of 
comparison  for  the  artist's  own  work,  but  impresses  him  with 


Imagination. 

a  belief  in  the  nobility  of  true  excellence,  and  with  a  passion 
for  success.  Under  these  influences  he  is  never  satisfied  with 
what  he  has  done,  always  feels  that  he  or  some  one  else' car 
do  better,  and  never  gives  up  striving  for  a  higher  success. 

This  mode  of  thinking  and  feeling  is  called  a  love  of  the 
ideal,  a  worship  of  the  ideal,  a  service  of  the  ideal,  the  forma- 
tion of  ideals;  not  because  the  imagination  forms  a  definite 
standard  of  excellence,  for  if  definite  it  would  not  be  ideal; 
but  because  all  the  concrete  examples  which  furnish  its  stock 
in  trade  are  seen  to  be  imperfect  and  surpassable.  Thus  the 
popular  phrase  is  perfectly  justifiable,  that  we  judge  ideally,  or 
by  an  ideal  standard;  but  it  is  not  strictly  accurate  to  say  that 
the  imagination  constructs  such  a  standard. 

Under  this  head  may  be  placed  another  remarkable  com- 
bination of  the  representative  and  reasoning  powers,  the  so- 
called  mathematical  imagination.  A  line  without  breadth  and 
perfectly  straight,  a  surface  without  thickness  and  perfectly 
plane,  may  be  said  to  be  ideals,  which  can  never  be  realized  in 
fact,  but  which  the  imagination  supplies  to  every  geomet- 
rical construction.  So  number  is  never  really  abstract,  but 
always  concrete,  and  when  we  speak  of  three,  or  ten,  alone,  we 
exercise  an  abstracting  imagination. 

The  power  to  isolate  a  relation  of  space  or  of  number,  re- 
move it  from  the  concrete,  and  make  this  abstraction* seem 
real  to  us,  may  well  be  called  imagination,  and  requires  culture 
in  this  peculiar  line  to  make  it  available,  as  does  the  artist's 
feeling  of  the  ideal. 

The  solution  of  problems  in  or  by  mathematics  often  comes 
under  the  next  head,  of  the  scientific  imagination. 

4.  The  scientific  imagination  is  used  in  fhe  framing  of  hy- 
potheses. The  scientific  investigator,  seeking  the  explanation 
of  a  phenomenon,  frames  a  supposition;  "What  if  it  be  thus 
and  so  ?  "    All  his  knowledge  of  natural  laws,  and  all  possible 


1 68  The  Intellect. 

suppositions  which  seem  to  him  reasonable,  as  to  new  laws  of 
nature,  form  the  material  out  of  which  his  imagination  forms  a 
hypothesis.  He  then  tests  this  by  experiment,  calculation, 
any  means  in  his  power.  If  the  result  is  unfavorable,  the  proc- 
ess has  probably  suggested  a  new  supposition,  which  can  be 
tried  in  like  manner.  Thus  Newton  formed  the  hypothesis 
that  the  force  which  binds  the  moon  to  the  earth,  and  the 
earth  to  the  sun,  is  the  same  as  that  which  attracts  bodies  on 
the  surface  of  the  earth,  giving  them  weight.  His  calculations 
failed  to  confirm  the  supposition.  He  calculated  that  the 
moon  would  be  deflected  fifteen  feet  in  a  minute,  while  it  is 
really  deflected  but  thirteen.  He  laid  his  calculations  aside. 
Thirteen  years  afterwards  Picard  measured  an  arc  of  a  merid- 
ian, and  found  a  new  value  for  the  earth's  diameter.  Newton 
then  went  over  his  calculations  again,  with  this  new  value  in- 
serted, and  found  them  correct.  The  result  confirmed  his 
theory  and  made  him  famous.  (Fiske,  Cosmic  Philosophy, 
I,  in.) 

"Without  an  active  imagination,  philosophical  invention 
and  discovery  are  impossible."  (Porter,  Hum.  Intel.,  369.) 
Prof.  J.  Tyndall's  essay  on  the  Scientific  Uses  of  the  Imagina- 
tion is  valuable  in  this  connection. 

Every  great  mechanical  invention  is  the  result  of  a  similar 
process;  only,  when  the  first  guess  proves  to  be  right,  it  seems 
an  inspiration,  though  really  the  result  of  long  mechanical 
practice  or  study,  supplying  the  imagination  with  a  fund  of 
materials.  But  in  fact  every  great  mechanical  triumph  has 
been  the  outcome  of  a  vast  number  of  hypotheses  constructed 
in  iron  and  wood,  ofter.  laid  aside  and  altered,  perfected  by 
many  steps.  The  power-loom,  the  spinning-machine,  the 
locomotive,  the  sewing-machine,  the  reaper,  the  thresher,  the 
chronometer,  the  blast-furnace,  the  iron  ship, — have  each  been 
developed  by  successive  efforts  of  the  scientific  or  mechanical 
imagination. 


Imagination.  169 

5.  The  ethical  and  religious  imagination.  Some  of  the  re- 
marks made  upon  the  artistic  imagination  are  applicable  here. 
The  literary  artist  may  produce  an  ideal  character,  just  as  the 
painter  produces  an  ideal  face,  by  improving,  heightening, 
strengthening,  in  a  word  idealizing,  an  actual  one.  But  he 
cannot  do  this  unless  he  has  an  "  ideal  standard  "  already  in 
his  mind;  but  as  in  art,  so  here,  this  does  not  mean  a  definite, 
detailed  standard,  but  an  aspiration,  a  love  of  moral  beauty. 
The  details  of  the  creation  will  be  supplied  by  the  imagination 
out  of  the  experience,  habits,  education,  observation,  etc.,  of 
the  author,  in  more  or  less  accordance  with  public  opinion  and 
the  tastes  of  the  time. 

Moral  ideals  and  rules,  however,  are  difficult  to  carry  in  the 
mind  and  apply  correctly  to  all  actions,  in  the  various  and 
complicated  circumstances  of  life.  They  are  best  presented, 
therefore,  concretely,  in  the  person  of  some  one  who  inspires 
our  admiration,  and  whom  we  can  imitate.  Nearly  all  relig- 
ions have  their  great  heroes  or  founders,  whom  the  people  are 
bidden  to  imitate.  The  Christian  religion  has  this  great  ad- 
vantage, that  it  satisfies  this  longing  of  the  human  heart  far 
better  than  any  other  religion,  and  presents  in  the -person  of 
Christ  an  ideal  which  abounds  in  divine  perfections,  and  yet  is 
not  perfect  in  such  a  way  as  to  repel  and  discourage  the  be- 
liever, but  attracts  him  with  a  deep  sympathy  and  arouses  him 
to  the  best  thoughts,  feelings,  and  actions. 

The  "  creative  imagination  "  may  find  ample  play  in  apply- 
ing the  teachings  of  Christ  and  his  example  to  all  the  circum- 
stances of  modern  life,  answering  the  questions; — What  would 
He  command  if  He  were  here?  What  would  He  do  if  He 
were  in  my  place? 

The  imagination  has  no  application  to  spiritual  beings.  It 
is  limited  to  the  analogies  of  our  present  life.  Our  attempts  to 
imagine  pure,   unembodied    spiritual    beings,    only   result    in 


170  The  Intellect. 

human  forms  made  of  thin,  transparent  matter.  Still  less  can 
we  imagine  the  Infinite  Spirit,  the  Divine  Being.  We  may 
form  concepts  of  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness,  perhaps  of  in- 
finity. We  may  attempt  to  join  all  these  together.  But  for  us 
to  imagine  a  Being  of  infinite  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness, 
would  be  for  the  finite  to  represent,  to  image  forth,  the  in- 
finite. We  believe  that  such  a  Being  exists,  but  that  does  not 
imply  that  we  can  image  to  ourselves  his  mode  of  existence. 

The  words  "  conception  "  and  "  conceive  "  are  sometimes 
used  in  connection  with  the  imagination.  This  may  be  allow- 
able in  popular  language  or  conversational  discourse,  but  in 
philosophical  language  these  terms  have  long  been  applied  in 
the  best  usage,  to  the  reasoning  power,  the  faculty  of  thought- 
knowledge,  of  abstractions,  and  should  not  now  be  changed. 
Dugald  Stewart  is  the  only  philosopher  of  note  who  has  used 
conception  in  the  sense  of  imagination. 

The  critics  of  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  affirm  that  he  neglects 
this  distinction,  and  uses  the  term  "  conceive  "  in  the  sense  of 
imagine.  "  To  think  a  thing  as  possible,"  he  says,  "  is  the 
same  as  to  imagine  it."  (Psychology,  n,  179.)  This  ob- 
viously injures  the  cogency  of  his  celebrated  antinomy  of  the 
reason,  his  doctrine  that  anything  must  necessarily  be  true  if 
we  cannot  "conceive"  the  opposite;  a  doctrine  which,  how- 
ever, we  should  reject  on  other  grounds. 


PART     III. 

THE  REASONING  POWER. 


The  reasoning  power  is  also  called  the  Understanding  by 
Coleridge,  Hickok,  and  many  others;  the  Elaborative  Faculty, 
by  Hamilton;  Discursive  Reason,  by  Whewell;  Dianoetic  Fac- 
ulty, by  Aristotle;  etc.  The  correct  term  should  be  Reason 
corresponding  to  "reasoning,"  which  is  used  to  express  what 
the  faculty  does.  But  "reason"  has  been  used  by  so  many 
writers  since  Coleridge,  to  define  a  supposed  faculty  of  regula- 
tion which  produces  a  priori  concepts  or  intuitive  ideas,  that 
we  cannot  hope  to  restore  its  proper  use.  We  keep  as  near  it 
as  possible  in  the  term  "  reasoning  power." 

The  functions  of  the  reasoning  power  may  be  divided  into 
judgment,  abstraction,  generalization,  and  reasoning  proper.  A 
product  of  the  Judgment,  when  actually  expressed,  is  called  a 
judgment,  and  the  phrase  in  which  it  is  expressed  is  called  a 
proposition.  A  product  of  abstraction  is  called  a  concept  or 
notion.  A  product  of  generalization  is  a  class.  Reasoning 
proper  is  of  three  kinds,  analogy,  induction,  and  deduction. 
The  judgment  is  by  some  called  the  faculty  of  comparison,  and 
considered  a  separate  division,  co-ordinate  with  the  understand- 
ing and  the  reason.     (Kant  J 

One  cause  of  the  confusion  of  nomenclature  on  this  sub- 
ject, is  the  influence  of  Locke's  Essay.  "This  work  is  quite 
as  much  a  treatise  on  logic  and  metaphysics  as  on  psychology. 
It  scarcely  professes  to  give  a  complete  and  systematic  view  of 
the  powers  of  the  soul,  but  is  chiefly  occupied  with  the  analy- 


172  The  Intellect. 

sis  of  ideas.  .  .  .  Locke  gave  a  direction  to  all  subse- 
quent writers,  even  to  those  who  differ  from  him  most  materi- 
ally. Even  Reid,  in  treating  of  the  higher  powers,  groups 
them  all  under  Judgment,  which  he  treats  quite  as  much  from 
a  logical  as  from  a  psychological  starting-point."  (Porter,  Hu- 
man Intellect,  381.) 

JUDGMENT. 

We  place  Judgment  first  because  it  is  concerned  in  all  the 
activities  of  the  intellect.  In  logic  the  phrase,  an  act  of  judg- 
ment, is  used  in  a  more  restricted  sense,  and  means  the  com- 
paring of  two  notions  which  are  already  formed.  For  exam- 
ple, when  I  say,  "grass  is  green,"  the  concepts  "grass"  and 
"green"  are  both  furnished,  and  the  logical  judgment  only 
unites  them  in  a  judgment,  and  the  phrase  expressing  this  is 
called  a  proposition. 

But  in  psychological  usage,  the  juigtnent  is  active  also  in 
perception.  I  cannot  perceive  the  grass  as  green  without  dis- 
tinguishing green  from  other  colors.  Discrimination,  as  we 
have  seen,  is  the  very  basis  of  knowledge.  A  judgment  is  then, 
psychologically,  an  act  of  the  mind,  which  applies  the  catego- 
ries of  identity  and  similarity.  For  example,  suppose  I  see  a 
distant  light  in  the  midst  of  darkness;  I  perceive  it  as  some- 
thing different  from  the  darkness.  If  it  continues  for  a  time,  I 
judge  it  to  be  the  same,  identical,  not  different.  If  it  changes 
to  a  red  light,  I  judge  it  to  be  qualitatively  different,  not  iden- 
tical, but  similar.  If  another  light  of  the  same  color  appears, 
I  judge  the  two  to  be  not  identical,  but  different, — separately 
existent,  but  alike  in  one  thing,  color. 

All  knowledge  implies  judgment;  we  can  not  know  any  ob- 
ject except  in  some  relation.  "  The  secondary,  comparative, 
and  logical  judgments  are  all  founded  on  those  which  are  pri- 
mary, natural,  and  psychological."     (Porter,  op.  cit.,  432.) 

When  we  see  a  red  light,  as  above,  if  we  know  by  previous 


Judgment.  173 

experience  that  the  name  of  this  peculiarity  is  "  red,"  we  apply 
that  knowledge  at  once,  and  form  the  proposition,  expressed  or 
implied,  "  this  light  is  red."  If  we  have  never  learned  the 
-name  "red,"  we  can  only  say,  "it  is  like  the  other  light,  like 
the  one  I  saw  last  night,"  and  begin  the  process  of  forming 
concepts,  classifying,  and  making  names.  But  if  some  one 
tells  us,  "  the  name  of  that  color  is  red,"  the  process  is  abridged; 
we  attach  the  name  to  the  concept,  and  have  it  ready  in  the 
memory  for  the  next  similar  occasion. 

Ordinarily,  we  learn  the  name  when  we  learn  the  object,  and 
the  classifying  judgment  is  made  for  us.  When  this  is  not  the 
case  a  tentative  process  of  naming  and  classification  necessarily 
begins.  When  Captain  Cook  landed  some  goats  on  an  island 
of  the  Paciffc,  the  natives  called  them  horned  hogs;  on  a  sim- 
ilar occasion  horses  have  been  called  large  dogs;  the  hog  and 
the  dog  being  the  only  beasts  known  to  them,  and  the  cloven 
feet  of  the  former  classing  them  with  goats.  The  Romans  at 
first  called  the  elephant  bos  lucanus,  lucanian  ox,  having  first 
seen  them  in  Lucania.  Children  often  classify  in  the  same 
imperfect  way,  calling  a  cow's  horns  handles,  the  gums  the  fat 
of  the  teeth,  etc. 

In  perception  we  also  distinguish  the  object  as  different  from 
self,  which  involves  a  knowledge  of  self  as  different  from  the 
object,  and  is  a  true  act  of  judgment. 

Judgment,  therefore,  can  hardly  be  called  a  separate  faculty 

or  mental  power;  or  at  least  the  fact  should  be  noticed  that  it 

does  not  isolate  itself  from  other  activities.     We  have  already 

remarked    upon   the    inseparable   connection   of   the   various 

powers  of  the  mind.     Each  one  involves  others,  and  perhaps, 

if  our  knowledge  were  wider  and  deeper,  we  might  see  that 

each    involves  and  depends  upon  all  the  others.     It  would 

hence  be  far  better  to  say,  "  the  mind  in  perception  acts  under 

the  categories  of  identity  and  similarity,  under  the  condition 
12 


174  The  Intellect. 

of  consciousness,  under  the  form  of  space,  under  the  limita- 
tions of  the  senses,"  than  to  say — "the  mind  has  a  faculty  of 
judgment,  another  of  consciousness,  etc.,  and  all  together  make 
up  the  power  of  knowledge."  But  convenience  and  common 
usage  compel  us  to  adhere  to  the  ordinary  names. 

The  further  discussion  of  the  judgment  and  its  operations 
belongs  to  the  science  of  logic.  We  shall  discuss  briefly  the 
concept,  and  the  operations  of  generalization  and  reasoning, 
so  far  only  as  they  seem  to  require  mention  as  psychological 
processes.  Their  complete  treatment  is  far  more  in  keeping 
with  the  subject  of  logic.  The  logical  text-book  of  President 
McCosh  is  especially  noteworthy  and  valuable  for  its  full  anc 
clear  treatment  of  the  concept. 

THE    CONCEPT. 

The  concept  is  a  product  of  abstraction  and  generalization. 
Let  us  take  a  simple  example,  a  red  apple.  We  can,  by  an  act 
of  "  analytic  attention,"  called  abstraction,  think  of  the  quality 
or  attribute  "red,"  apart  from  the  other  attributes  which  make 
up  the  mental  object,  apple.  Lotze  uses  the  instance  of  a  tree, 
which  we  see  at  one  time  covered  with  green  leaves,  and  at 
another  after  it  has  lost  its  leaves,  and  so  find  that  we  can  sep- 
arate the  attribute,  green,  from  the  object  tree.  (Dictate, 
Logik,  §20.)  To  the  same  effect  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  says 
that  we  have  the  "power  of  recognizing  attributes  as  distin- 
guished from  the  objects  possessing  them,  ...  a  power 
to  recognize  attributes  in  themselves,  apart  from  particular 
bodies/'     (Psychology,   I,  344.) 

This  process  is  called  abstraction.  The  quality  or  attribute 
of  redness,  for  example,  when  we  separate  it  in  thought  from 
the  being  of  a  single  object,  is  called  an  abstractu?n.  This 
does  not  imply  that  we  can  imagine  the  quality  really  to  exist 
by  itself,  apart  from  any  substance  to  which  it  belongs,  or  that 
we  can  imagine  an  apple  or  a  tree  without  any  color.     But, 


The  Concept.  175 

suppose  there  are  several  red  apples,  we  can  compare  them,  by 
an  act  of  judgment,  and  know  that  they  agree  in  this  respect, 
know  that  they  all  have  the  same  attribute  of  "red,"  that  is, 
they  all  have  a  like  power  of  occasioning  the  sensation  called 
red. 

This  quality,  when  viewed  as  the  common  property  of  all 
the  members  of  a  class  which  makes  them  to  be  a  class,  is 
called  a  concept.  The  concept  is  therefore  a  "general,"  a 
"  universal."  Now,  in  what  sense  this  universal  really  exists, 
and  what  its  nature  is,  has  been  the  object  of  dispute  among 
philosophers  and  logicians  for  many  centuries.  It  is  not  a 
part  of  our  present  plan  to  give  a  history  of  these  disputes. 

But  we  affirm  that  the  concept  is  a  mental  product,  resem- 
bling in  this  respect  a  percept,  or  a  representation.  "  The  con- 
cept is  a  purely  relative  object  of  knowledge.  ...  As 
a  mental  product  and  a  mental  object,  it  is  purely  relative, 
being  formed  by  the  mind  and  understood  by  the  mind  as  in- 
differently common  to  single  objects  as  so  to  speak,  held 
ever  ready  by  the  mind  to  be  affirmed  of,  and  restored  to,  the 
single  object  to  which  it  relates."  (Porter,  Human  Intellect, 
392.     See  also  Bowne's  Metaphysics,  30.) 

Professor  Jevons  defines  concept  as; — "That  which  is  con- 
ceived; the  result  of  the  act  of  conception;  nearly  synony- 
mous with  general  notion,  idea,  thought."  Mr.  Spencer's  re- 
marks, quoted  above,  are  of  the  same  tenor.  Lotze  compares 
mere  sensations  to  round  bodies  out  of  which  no  building  can 
be  reared;  as  only  prism-shaped  bodies  can  be  formed  into  a 
wall,  so  sensations  must  be  formed  into  classes,  concepts, 
mental  products,  before  we  can  think  with  them.  (Dictate, 
Logik,  §6.) 

We  may  remark  here  that  the  logical  term  "  notion,"  and 
the  German  "  begriff"  are  generally  used  in  a  wider  meaning 
than  that  given  for  "  concept." 


176  The  Intellect. 

Concepts  may  be  classified  in  various  ways.  We  mention 
only  the  division  into  simple  and  complex  concepts.  Those 
called  simple  contain  but  a  single  attribute,  as  redness,  sour- 
ness. Those  called  complex  comprehend  many  attributes, 
as  man,  horse.  So  we  may  rise  from  one  order  of  abstrac- 
tion to  another,  until  we  reach  such  complex  objects  of  thought 
as  nation,  civilization,  religion,  education,  nature. 

The  term  classification  is  used  oftener  in  a  higher  and 
wider  meaning,  of  the  systematic  arrangement  of  natural  ob- 
jects, under  higher  and  lower  genera.  This  operation  depends 
on  analysis  and  comparison.  An  object  is  presented  to  the 
mind  in  perception  as  a  complex  of  properties,  parts,  and  re- 
lations. It  is  impossible  to  compare  two  objects  without  sep- 
arating in  thought  these  properties  and  relations.  We  may 
then,  on  comparison,  form  a  class  of  those  objects  which  agree 
in  every  observable  attribute.  Such  a  class  would  be  in  most 
cases  very  small.  Or,  we  may  form  a  class  of  all  those  ob- 
jects which  agree  in  only  one  given  attribute,  and  such  a  class 
would  usually  be  very  large. 

This  introduces  the  distinction  between  the  comprehension 
and  the  extension  of  concepts.  The  former  denotes  the  num- 
ber of  attributes  in  which  the  objects  agree,  the  latter  the 
number  of  individual  objects  which  belong  to  the  class.  The 
two  are  therefore  always  in  inverse  ratio;  for,  the  slighter  the 
resemblance  the  larger  the  class,  and  the  more  exact  the  resem- 
blance the  smaller  the  class. 

We  must  now  briefly  describe  the  three  great  schools  of 
opinion  on  this  point.  We  quote  the  graphic  description  of 
Professor  Bain.  "  It  was  believed  by  a  certain  school  of  phi- 
losophers, deriving  from  Plato,  that  there  exists,  in  the  universe 
of  being,  a  circle  in  general,  or  circular  form  without  substance, 
size,  or  color;  that  in  like  manner,  there  are  archetypal  forms 
of  man,  of  just,  of  good,  etc.     After  a  severe  controversy  which 


The  Concept.  177 

raged    in   the  scholastic  period,   this  view  was    abandoned." 

This  was  the  view  called  realism,  and  its  catchword  was, 
universalia  ante  rem. 

"  Another  mode  of  regarding  the  fact  of  community  in  di- 
versity, is  to  suppose  that  the  mind  can  represent  to  itself,  in 
a  notion,  the  points  of  agreement  by  themselves,  and  can  leave 
entirely  out  of  sight  the  points  of  difference.  This  is  con- 
ceptualism."  The  catchword  of  this  theory  is,  universalia 
in  re. 

Professor  Bain  then  goes  on  to  describe  h#  own  view, 
which  is  nominalism  and  the  catchword  of  which  is,  uni- 
versalia post  rem.  "The  final  result  of  the  generalizing  proc- 
ess is  the  abstract  name.  Such  names  as  motion,  weight, 
breadth,  whiteness,  melody,  roughness,  polarity,  wisdom,  jus- 
tice, beauty,  are  called  abstract  names,  as  signifying  qualities  or 
attributes  without  reference  to  the  things  that  possess  the 
qualities.  They  seem  to  separate  the  points  of  community  of 
agreeing  objects  themselves,  an  operation  impossible  in  fact, 
and  even  in  thought,  Ifut  supposed  by  a  kind  of  fiction  to  be 
possible."     (Bain,  Logic,  52.) 

We  grant  that  it  is  impossible  so  to  separate  the  qualities  of 
objects  in  fact,  and  even  in  imagination,  but  deny  that  it  is 
therefore  impossible  in  thought.  Yet  the  quality,  when  thus 
thought  separately  from  the  object,  is  not  a  concept,  but  only 
an  abstract;  it  becomes  a  universal,  a  concept,  when  thought 
as  the  common  quality  of  several  objects,  that  which  makes 
them  a  class. 

u  It  is  said,"  says  Lotze,  "  that  the  unlike  parts  of  our  ideas 
destroy  one  another,  and  the  similar  parts  are  simply  left  be- 
hind, and  form  the  universal.  But  the  simple  ideas  are  not 
lost;  they  remain,  alongside  of  the  universals,  which  are  added 
as  a  new  product.  Moreover,  the  general  concept  is  not  some- 
thing which  can  be  represented,  pictured,  like  the  examples 


178  The  Intellect. 

from  which  it  is  derived.     Thus,  '  color  in  general '  cannot  be 
represented  in  the  mind.     Neither  can  '  animal  in  general.' 

"  Such  general  concepts  are  not,  then,  products  of  a  coali- 
tion of  many  single  ideas,  for  then  they  would  have  the  same 
character  [be  of  the  same  order]  with  their  components.  The 
names  we  give  them,  '  color '  for  example,  merely  summon  up 
a  series  of  single  impressions,  but  with  the  added  thought  that 
we  mean,  not  them,  but  that  in  them  which  is  common, 
though  it  can  never  be  separated  from  them  as  a  distinct  repre- 
sentation."   ^Lotze,  Dictate,  Psychologie,  §23.) 

Lotze  is  usually  called  a  nominalist;  but  the  above  passage 
may  fairly  be  understood  as  agreeing  with  the  quotations  from 
President  Porter,  and  with  our  own  view. 

It  is  plain,  however,  that  Bain  and  Mill  were  required  by 
consistency  to  be  extreme  nominalists.  For,  on  their  view  of 
the  mind,  universals  must  be  formed  by  the  automatic  action  of 
sensations.  Sensations  that  are  more  frequently  repeated 
make  a  deeper  impression  on  the  brain,  so  that  when  a  series 
of  objects  occasion  sensations,  those  which  are  alike  are 
strengthened,  while  those  which  are  unlike  are  crowded  out 
and  forgotten.  Of  course  on  such  a  theory  there  is  no  mental 
product,  no  elaboration  by  the  active  power  of  the  mind  in 
perception,  and  hence  none  in  conception.  Conception  is  re- 
duced to  imagination,  the  power  of  imaging  forth  real  objects. 

But  those  who  hold  that  the  mind  is  active,  interpreting  and 
combining  sensations,  and  forming  a  mental  product  by  means 
of  them,  a  percept, — should  have  no  difficulty  in  believing 
that  the  mind  can  superinduce  upon  this  a  still  higher  stage  of 
mental  products,  the  concept. 

It  is  admitted  that  names  are  essential  to  the  effective  use  of 
concepts,  perhaps  even  to  the  formation  of  all  but  the  more 
simple  ones.  Still  analysis  and  classification  of  objects  can 
undoubtedly  go  on  to  some  extent  without  language.     The 


The  Concept.  179 

lower  animals  can  form  classes  of  concrete  objects,  can  clas- 
sify men  as  different  from  other  animals,  sweet  grasses  as  dif- 
ferent from  bitter  herbs,  etc.,  but  they  cannot  form  concepts 
of  the  higher  degrees,  or  true  abstracta.  Such  concepts  as 
justice,  truth,  beauty,  are  unknown  to  them,  for  these  require 
language  to  deal  with  them  and  make  them  useful,  as  well  as  a 
higher  abstractive  power  of  thought  to  make  them  possible. 

The  general  name  is  really  a  different  product,  as  is  ad- 
mitted by  Bain  himself.  "  The  abstract  name  is  not  absolutely 
required  for  ordinary  speech,  nor  indeed  for  science.  .  .  . 
Justice  expresses  the  same  thing  as  just  actions.  .  .  .  The 
term  signifies  just  actions  in  so  far  as  just,  or  viewed  solely 
with  reference  to  their  being  just."     (Logic,  53.) 

But  this  would  be  the  forming  of  a  concept  as  a  mental 
product,  not  a  mere  name,  and  would  inevitably  become  con- 
ceptualism.  "  What  the  mind  considers  is  not  the  name  but 
the.  meaning  or  import  of  the  name."  (Porter,  Human  In- 
tellect, 416.") 

•  The  conceptualist,  in  like  manner  sometimes  glides  into  the 
territory  of  the  realist,  by  treating  concepts  as  existing  by  them- 
selves, apart  from  the  objects  from  which  they  are  derived,  for- 
getting that  they  are  but  mental  products,  symbols.  President 
McCosh  says:  "  Conceptualism  has  often  taken  a  wrong  form. 
It  does  so  when  it  regards  the  conception  combining  the  objects 
as  an  idea  in  the  sense  of  image.  Thip  was  the  mistake  of 
Locke.  .  -  .  .  But  if  it  avoids  these  mistakes  and  over- 
sights, which  are  not  parts  of  the  doctrine  properly  understood, 
conceptualism  is  che  true  theory.  For  in  general  notions, 
[concepts]  the  essential  element  is  the  grouping  by  the  mind 
of  objects  by  common  properties,  and  putting  in  the  group  all 
objects  possessing  the  properties."     (Logic  92.) 

Dr.    McCosh  adds  the  following  striking  statement  of  the 


i So  The  Intellect. 

real  truth  contained  in  each  of  these  theories,  realism,  con- 
ceptualism,  and  nominalism.  "There  are  wiiversalia  ante  rem 
in  the  Divine  Mind.  There  are  universalia  in  re  in  natural 
classes.  There  are  universalia  post  rem  in  human  concepts 
and  terms." 

REASONING  PROPER. 

Reasoning  may  be  called  mediate  judgment,  or  the  com- 
parison of  simple  judgments.  For  example,  returning  to  our 
red  apples,  if  we  judge  concerning  them  that  they  are  red,  or 
round,  or  small,  or  that  they  agree  or  disagree  in  any  way,  this 
is  an  immediate  or  simple  judgment.  If  we  say,  "  red  apples 
are  good,  therefore  these  apples  are  good,"  this  is  a  mediate 
judgment,  that  is,  one  with  a  middle  term,  a  comparison  of 
judgments. 

The  two  chief  forms  of  reasoning  are  Deduction  and  Induc- 
tion. In  the  first,  as  in  the  example  given  above,  the  middle 
or  general  term  is  supplied,  with  which  the  first  simple  judg- 
ment is  to  be  compared.  In  the  second  the  general  term  is  to 
be  found.  Thus,  if  I  eat  a  good  many  red  apples  and  find 
them  all  good,  I  may  infer  that  all  red  apples  are  good,  and 
this  would  be  induction. 

A  complete  deductive  argument  is  called  a  syllogism.  The 
following  is  an  example  of  the  simplest  form  of  syllogism.  All 
men  are  mortal;  the  king  is  a  man;  therefore  the  king  is  mor- 
tal. Three  judgments  are  involved;  the  one  we  have  placed 
first  is  called  the  major  premise,  the  second  the  minor  premise, 
the  third  the  conclusion.  The  middle  term  (here  man)  ap- 
pears in  both  premises.  The  minor  term  (here  king)  appears 
in  the  conclusion  and  in  one  premise.  The  major  term  (here 
mortal)  appears  in  the  conclusion  and  in  one  premise.  With-, 
out  a  middle  term,  or  with  two  middle  terms  there  can 
obviously  be  no  ^alid  conclusion. 

There  are  many  forms  of  syllogism,  but  they  can  all  be  re- 


Reasoning  Proper.  181 

duced  to  this  simple  form  or  its  corresponding  negative,  as  is 
shown  in  any  text-book  of  logic. 

Now  what  is  the  principle  on  which  this  kind  of  reasoning 
depends  ?  Why  are  we  obliged  to  admit  the  conclusion  when 
we  have  admitted  that  the  premises  are  correct  and  that  the 
process  is  regular.  Take  the  simple  form,  A  is  equal  to  B,  B 
is  equal  to  C,  therefore  A=C.  Here  the  principle  of  reasoning 
evidently  is,  things  which  are  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal 
to  one  another.  But  this  form,  though  it  resembles  a  syllo- 
gism is  not  one  in  reality,  for  all  its  terms  have  exactly  the  same 
extent,  and  there  is  no  middle  term.  But  its  resemblance  may 
aid  us  in  seeing  what  kind  of  a  principle  or  axiom  is  to  be 
sought. 

Strange  as  it  appears,  this  axiom  has  been  the  subject  of 
much  dispute.  The  best  known  form  of  the  axiom  is  Aristotle's 
dictum  de  ommi  et  nullo,  which  is:  "  Whatever  is  true  of  a  class 
is  true  also  of  whatever  comes  under  the  class." 

Sir  W.  Hamilton  has  endeavored  to  reduce  the  relation  to 
be  expressed  to  one  of  extent,  and  gives  the  axiom  as  follows: 
"Whatever  is  part  of  a  part,  is  part  of  its  containing  whole." 
This,  though  useful  for  advancing  Hamilton's  peculiar  theories, 
does  not  differ,  so  far  as  our  purpose  is  concerned,  from  that 
of  Aristotle. 

J.  Stuart  Mill,  at  the  opposite  extreme,  reduces  the  relation 
to  one  of  content,  and  gives  the -axiom  thus:  "Whatever 
possesses  any  mark  possesses  that  which  it  is  a  mark  of."  He 
says  that  a  middle  term  niay  be  dispensed  with,  and  that  we 
really  reason  from  particular  to  particular,  without  using  any 
general.  This,  however,  does  not  settle  the  question;  every 
one  knows  that  we  actually  reason  in  that  way,  but  the  ques- 
tion is,  Is  not  the  middle  term  implied  when  it  is  not  expressed? 
Mr.  Mill  would  say  "  The  king  is  a  man,  and  therefore  mortal. 
I  know  that  he  is  mortal  immediately,  since  he  belongs  to  the 
human  race." 


1 82  The  Intellect. 

But  evidently  the  middle  term  is  implied,  and  the  ordinary 
syllogism  is  only  the  full  expression  of  the  implication.  Prof. 
Bain  says:  "We  have  to  prove  that  some  object  is  mortal,  not 
expressly  named  a  man,  but  designated  by  some  other  title,  as 
Hring.7  We  cannot  say,  'men  are  mortal,'  therefore  'kings  are 
mortal;'  such  an  inference  can  be  made  only  through  an  in- 
termediate assertion,  'kings  are  men.'"     (Logic,  156.) 

Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  denies  that  any  axiom  which  it  is  pos- 
sible to  frame  can  be  "capable  of  expressing  the  ratiocinative 
act."  He  says:  ';  Reasoning  is  the  indirect  establishment  of  a 
definite  relation  between  two  things.     .  .     Every  ratiocin- 

ative act  is  the  indirect  establishment  of  a  definite  relation 
between  two  things,  by  the  process  of  establishing  a  definite 
relation  between  two  definite  relations."  "  Reasoning  presup- 
poses classification,  and  classification  presupposes  reasoning. 
.  .  .  .  They  are  the  different  sides  of  the  same  thing,  the 
necessary  complements  of  each  other."  (Psychology,  II,  115, 
118.) 

This  implies,  evidently,  the  "relation-view  of  propositions," 
which  is,  "that  every  proposition  really  asserts  the  manner  in 
which  two  '  nameble  things  '  are  related  to  each  other."  Both 
terms,  that  is,  of  the  proposition,  are  subjects.  Mr.  Sidgwick 
says  that  this  theory  was  suggested  by  Mill  and  really  appears 
in  parts  of  his  logic,  though   not  avowed  by  him.     (Fallacies 

53-) 

The  theory  seems  to  be  merely  an  attempt  to  eliminate 
abstraction  and  the  concept,  like  that  of  Bain  and  Mill  men- 
tioned above,  but  pushed  a  little  further.  It  is  a  result  of 
nominalism,  an  attempt  to  use  real  things  in  argument,  with- 
out mental  products.  The  full  discussion  of  it  belongs  to 
logic.     We  subjoin  a  few  authorities. 

"  Syllogism  in  the  strictest  sense  is  inference  from  the  gen- 
eral to  the  particular  or  individual,  and  in  all  its  forms,  infer- 


Deduction.  183 

ence  proceeds  from  the  general."     (Ueberweg's  Logic,  transla- 
tion, 333.) 

"  A  syllogism  is  a  combination  of  two  judgments,  necessitat- 
ing a  third  judgment  as  a  consequence  of  their  mutual  relation." 
(Mansel.) 

"A  syllogism  is  an  enunciation  in  which,  certain  assertions 
being  made,  by  their  being  true  it  follows  necessarily  that 
another  assertion,  different  from  the  first,  is  true  also."  (Aris- 
totle.) 

The  general  term  is,  then,  necessary  to  the  syllogism,  which 
is  the  test-form  to  which  all  forms  of  deductive  reasoning  can 
be  reduced. 

It  is  sometimes  objected  that  the  conclusion  of  the  syllogism 
does  not  advance  beyond  the  premises,  but  is  really  affirmed 
in  them.  Indeed  it  is  a  formal  canon  of  books- of  logic  that 
the  conclusion  must  contain  nothing  which  is  not  already  in- 
cluded in  the  premises.  This  is  often  called  a  petitio principii 
and  said  to  destroy  the  value  of  this  kind  of  argument.  Its 
value  is  certainly  reduced  by  this  consideration  below  the 
claims  of  many  logicians,  but  not  by  any  means  destroyed. 

"  It  does  not  follow  that  the  deductive  process  is  therefore 
superfluous,  inasmuch  as  it  may  be  necessary  to  develop  or  draw 
out  that  which  is  already  implied  or  folded  up  in  the  premises." 
(Whately,  Logic.) 

"  Deductive  inference  may  be  described  as  a  process  of  in- 
terpretation. .  .  .  The  deductive  inference  that  the  pope 
is  mortal,  presupposes  an  examination  of  the  pope's  personality. 
If  this  resembles  the  usual  type  of  humanity,  we  identify  him 
with  the  subject  '  men '  in  our  general  proposition."  (Bain, 
Logic,  211.) 

Complete  or  syllogistic  statement  of  an  argument  may  often 
be  more  convincing,  or  its  fallacy  may  be  more  easily  detected, 
from  bringing  the  terms  more  distinctly  before  the  mind.     By 


184  The  Intellect. 

supplying  the  major  premise  in  each   of  the  following  argu- 
ments, its  validity  or  fallacy  will  be  more  clearly  seen. 

"A  slave  is  a  human  being,  and  therefore  ought  not  to  be 
held  in  bondage." 

"He  is  not  thirsty,  and  therefore  is  not  suffering  from  fever." 

"No  war  is  popular,  because  a  war  increases  taxation." 

"The  Reformation  was  accompanied  and  followed  by  many 
disturbances,  and  is  therefore  to  be  condemned." 

"All  plants  contain  cellular  tissue,  hence  no  animals  are 
plants." 

The  value  of  deduction  for  enlarging  our  real  knowledge  is 
seen  to  best  advantage  in  the  mathematical  sciences.  No 
doubt,  in  a  sense,  all  the  truths  of  geometry  are  wrapped  up  in 
its  postulates  and  axioms;  and  all  the  truths  of  speculative  as- 
tronomy are  contained  in  the  law  of  gravitation.  But  the  in- 
terpretation, unfolding,  explication,  of  these  facts  in  a  shape  fit 
for  the  human  mind  to  grasp,  is  a  task  for  the  ingenuity  and 
ability  of  generations  of  mathematicians  and  astronomers. 

A  further  question  arises; — How  do  we  know  the  major 
premise  is  correct,  that  its  statement  is  true?  In  mathematical 
reasoning  the  truth  of  the  major  premise  may  be  contained  in 
the  definitions  or  previously  deduced  from  them.  In  geome- 
try, if  we  define  a  line  as  the  shortest  distance  between  two 
points,  we  may  rightly  take  as  a  major  premise,  "  all  straight 
lines  are  shorter  than  bent  ones."  Or,  if  the  definition  of  a 
triangle  implies  that  it  has  three  sides,  we  may  correctly  assert 
this  universally  in  the  major  premise. 

But  in  most  reasoning  there  may  be  room  for  doubt  at  this 
point.  How  do  we  know  that  all  men  are  mortal  ?  Unless 
we  know  this  on  certain  grounds,  it  is  not  valid  to  say  that  the 
king  is  a  man  and  therefore  mortal.  It  is  plain  that  we  cannot 
prove  it  by  simple  enumeration,  for  all  men  are  certainly  not 
dead  yet.     This  introduces  us  to  reasoning  by  induction. 


Induction.  185 


Induction. 


Induction  is  the  deriving  of  generals  from  particulars. 
"  That  part  of  the  reasoning  process  which  proceeds  from  par- 
ticulars to  generals."  (Calderwood.)  "The  arriving  at  gen- 
eral propositions  by  means  of  observation."     (Bain,  Logic,  231.) 

"  Induction  is  a  kind  of  argument  which  infers,  respecting  a 
whole  class,  what  has  been  ascertained  respecting  one  or  more 
individuals  of  that  class."     (VVhately.) 

"  Induction  is  the  process  by  which  we  conclude  that  what 
is  true  of  certain  individuals  of  a  class  is  true  of  the  whole 
class,  or  that  what  is  true  at  certain  times  will  be  true  under 
similar  circumstances  at  all  times."     (Mill.) 

The  following  is  the  best  definition  of  induction  as  actually 
employed  in  science :  "  The  legitimate  inference  of  the  un- 
known from  the  known,  that  is,  of  propositions  applicable  to 
cases  hitherto  unobserved  and  unexamined  from  propositions 
which  are  known  to  be  true  of  the  cases  observed  and  examined." 
(Fowler,  Inductive  Logic,  9.) 

Sir  Isaac  Newton  correctly  stated  the  nature  of  induction  in 
the  following  passage:  "As  in  mathematics,  so  in  natural  phi- 
losophy, the  investigation  of  difficult  things  by  the  method  of 
analysis  ought  ever  to  precede  the  method  of  composition. 
This  analysis  consists  in  making  experiments  and  observa- 
tions and  in  drawing  general  conclusions  from  them  by  induc- 
tion. And  although  the  arguing  from  experiments  and  obser- 
vations by  induction  be  no  demonstration  of  general  conclu- 
sions, yet  it  is  the  best  way  of  arguing  which  the  nature  of 
things  admits  of,  and  may  be  looked  upon  as  so  much  the 
stronger  by  how  much  the  induction  is  more  general." 
(Quoted  by  Lewes,  Problems,  I,  51.) 

To  reason  by  induction,  then,  is  to  take  certain  facts,  as 
found  by  observation   or  experiment,  and  place  them  as  rep- 


1 86  The  Intellect. 

resentatives  of  the  whole  class  of  objects  to  which  they  be- 
long, assuming  that  what  is  true  of  these  few  objects  is  true  of 
the  whole  class.  Obviously  the  cogency  of  all  arguments 
founded  on  such  a  basis  depends  on  the  accuracy  and  extent 
of  the  observations,  or  else  on  the  nature  of  the  experiments. 

For  example,  if  I  find  that  a  shilling  and  a  feather  fall  in  the 
same  time  in  a  vacuum,  I  do  not  need  to  try  a  thousand  experi- 
ments on  different  objects,  gold,  paper,  wood,  lead,  before  I 
admit  the  universality  of  the  fact.  A  few  repetitions  with  the 
same  objects,  simply  to  eliminate  possible  errors,  are  as  con- 
vincing as  a  hundred,  and  I  am  prepared  to  declare  the  gen- 
eral truth  that  all  bodies,  not  merely  silver  and  feathers,  fall 
with  the  same  speed  in  a  vacuum. 

"  When  the  chemist  has  shown  by  a  single  experiment  that 
nitrogen  will  not  support  combustion,  we  believe  it  will  be  just 
the  same  through  all  future  time.  If  we  withhold  our  assent  it 
is  from  a  doubt  whether  the  experiment  was  properly  made." 
(Fiske,  Cosmic  Philosophy,  I,  55.) 

But  when  the  argument  concerns  more  complicated  subjects, 
politics,  morals,  or  even  animal  life,  the  danger  of  mistake  is 
vastly  greater,  and  the  number  of  instances  must  be  propor- 
tionately larger.  A  negative  conclusion  also  introduces  diffi- 
culty and  doubt.     For  example, — 

Aristotle  mentioned  it  as  a  curious  fact  that  no  animal  ever 
died  on  the  sea-shore  at  the  ebbing  of  the  tide.  Pliny  said 
this  was  a  mistake,  and  the  statement  was  true  only  of  man. 

The  delusion  was  scientifically  disproved  only  so  recently  as 
1727,  and  probably  still  lingers  in  popular  superstition. 

To  prove  the  effect  of  a  medicine  in  disease,  as  quinine  in 
ague,  would  evidently  require  a  careful  elimination  of  disturb- 
ing causes,  and  many  observations.  But  when  a  barometer 
was  carried  for  the  first  time  to  the  top  of  a  high  hill,  the  press- 
ure  of  the  atmosphere  in  all  places  and  times  was  proved  at 


Induction.  187 

a  stroke,  never  again  to  be  doubted  by  any  one  capable  of 
reasoning  and  acquainted  with  the  subject. 

There  are  some  who  declare  that  the  step  taken  by  the  mind 
in  induction  is  from  particular  to  particular,  not  from  particu- 
lars to  generals.  For  example,  if  I  take  a  barometer  to  the 
top  of  a  mountain  and  the  mercury  falls,  I  infer  that  if  I  take 
it  upon  yonder  mountain  the  mercury  will  also  fall,  or  that  if 

I  bring  another  barometer  upon  the  same  mountain  it  will  fall. 
But  there  is  just  as  much  ground  for  drawing  the  conclusion 
of  one  mountain  as  another,  one  barometer  as  another,  just  as 
much  ground  for  applying  it  to  all  as  to  one.  The  general 
term  is  therefore  latent,  if  not  expressed. 

The  axiom  on  which  induction  rests  has  been  stated  in 
many  forms.  The  most  usual  form  is  that  given  by  Professor 
Bain,  the  "  Law  of  the  Uniformity  of  Nature,"  which  he  calls 
the  "  most  fundamental  assumption  of  all  human  knowledge." 

II  This  axiom,"  he  says,  is  the  common  ground  of  all  inference, 
whether  avowedly  inductive,  or  induction  disguised  under  the 
forms  of  deduction.  Without  this  assumption  experience  can 
prove  nothing.  .  .  .  This  must  be  received  without  proof; 
it  can  repose  on  nothing  more  fundamental  than  itself.  If  we 
seem  to  offer  any  proof  for  it,  we  merely  beg  it  in  another 
shape."     (Logic,  227.) 

We  must  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  Bain  here  distinctly 
assumes  an  intuitive  origin  for  this  axiom.  Mr.  Mill,  while 
accepting  the  axiom  as  the  basis  of  induction  and  as  true  in 
itself,  insists  that  it  is  itself  derived  from  experience. 

Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  resorts  to  the  law  of  contradiction  as 
the  ultimate  test  of  truth;  that  is,  the  law  that  anything  is  true 
if  we  cannot  conceive  [imagine]  the  truth  of  the  opposite.  But 
the  contradiction  or  non-contradiction  is  to  be  perceived  by 
human  faculties,  whose  correct  and  continued  operation  is  thus 
taken  for  granted.     The  dictum  can  attain  no  higher  certainty 


1 88  The  Intellect. 

than  its  source.  But  the  correct  and  continued  operation  of 
the  human  faculties  is  a  part  of  the  uniformity  of  nature,  and 
therefore  this  axiom  seems  to  rest  upon  the  other,  and  to  have 
no  higher  certainty. 

President  Porter  does  not  base  induction  on  any  one  axiom 
but  mentions  six  principles  or  assumptions  "  which  are  a  priori 
to  the  ordinary  processes  of  inductive  inquiry.'"  These  are, 
(i)  The  relation  of  substance  and  attribute.  (2)  The  reality 
of  causative  energy.  (3)  The  relations  of  time  and  space. 
(4)  That  nature  "  is  consistent  with  herself,  or  uniform  in  her 
methods  of  revealing  or  suggesting  what  man  is  prompted  to 
interpret  or  explain."  (5)  That  "physical  forces  are  regulated 
and  controlled  by  design."  (6)  u  That  the  rational  methods 
of  the  divine  and  human  intellect  are  similar." 

Many  writers  accept  the  uniformity  of  nature  as  an  axiom, 
without  lioticing  that  in  thus  making  the  unchangeableness  of 
nature  an  intuitive  truth,  they  exclude  the  possibility  of  miracles 
and  of  creation,  if  not  of  intelligent  design.  It  is  not  at  all 
surprising  that  evolutionists  should  rest  everything  upon  the 
uniformity  of  nature.  Moreover,  sensationalists  and  others 
who  disbelieve  in  the  reality  of  causation,  naturally  adopt  the 
same  axiom,  for  they  cannot  rise  higher,  to  the  really  intuitive 
axiom  of  causation,  having  excluded  it  by  their  assumptions. 

But  we  affirm  that  the  principle  or  fact  of  the  uniformity  of 
nature  is  not  an  axiom  in  any  proper  sense  of  the*  word,  but 
a  generalization  from  the  facts  of  nature.  It  is  but  another 
name  for  the  reign  of  law,  the  fact  that  all  physical  phenomena 
are  subject  to  law,  that  is,  certain  uniformities  of  causation 
which  men  observe,  and  classify,  and  call  laws.  This  concep- 
tion of  universal  law  is  a  late  one  in  the  history  of  the  human 
mind.  Early  man  supposes  the  fact  to  be  that  all  unusual 
phenomena  are  the  work  of  supernatural  causes.  And  even  in 
an  educated  and  scientific  generation,  there  are  thousands  who 


Induction.    ■  189 

believe  in  magic  of  various  kinds,  by  which  disease  is  cured, 
and  other  effects  are  produced  without  means. 

Again,  if  the  world  has  had  a  beginning,  or  if  miracles  have 
ever  interrupted  the  chain  of  causation,  or  if  the  world  is 
guided  by  infinite  intelligence  toward  a  moral  end,  then  the 
assertion  of  the  uniformity  of  nature,  the  universality  of  law,  is 
not  correct. 

As  we  have  shown  when  discussing  causation,  the  true  axiom 
is,  the  uniformity  of  causation.  President  Hopkins,  treating  of 
the  axiom  underlying  induction,  says :  "  There  is  none,  except 
the  uniformity  of  causation.  By  this  we  mean  that  the  same 
causes,  operating  under  the  same  circumstances,  will  produce 
the  same  effects.  Instead  of  this,  modern  science  assumes  as 
the  axiom  of  induction  that  nature  is  uniform.  .  .  .  This 
is  the  one  postulate  of  mere  scientists  on  which  their  whole 
structure  rests.  But  so  far  is  the  general  proposition  that 
nature  is  uniform  from  being  at  the  basis  of  our  induction  that 
it  is  itself  the  result  of  induction."  (Outline  Study  of  Man, 
168.) 

Th.is  principle  of  the  uniformity  of  causation  evidently  de- 
pends on  the  reality  of  efficiency  in  causation.  Indeed,  it 
amounts  to  this  axiom  or  intuition,  that  cause  is  real  efficiency, 
plus  the  logical  principle  of  identity. 

Mr.  Lewes  states  the  latter  thus:  "The  validity  of  conclu- 
sions rests  on  the  preservation  of  homogeneity  in  the  terms  and 
the  identity  of  their  ratios."  (Problems  I,  91.)  It  is  always 
understood  as  a  necessary  condition  of  reasoning  that  the  terms 
of  a  judgment  remain  the  same  while  the  judgment  lasts.  For 
example,  if  I  say,  "Water  quenched  my  thirst  yesterday  and 
to-day,  hence  water  has  always  this  property  of  quenching 
thirst,"  I  assume  that  the  state  of  my  system  will  be  the  same,  in 
any  future  experiments,  that  no  fever  will  be  present  disturb- 
ing my  circulation,  that  the  properties  of  water  will  remain  the 
13 


190  The  Intellect. 

same,  that  it  will  not  be  impregnated  with  salt  or  poison,  and 
will  not  be  lukewarm,  etc.  All  these  are  really  identical  prop- 
ositions, as  much  so  as,  a  equals  a,  or,  what  is  is,  or,  water  is 
water,  or,  thirst  is  thirst;  while  they  are  so,  they  will  be  so. 

Indeed,  as  wre  showed  under  causation,  if  the  "  uniformity  of 
nature  "  is  true,  and  so  far  as  it  is  true,  it  must  have  its  rational 
ground  in  real  efficiency  of  causation. 

But  much  that  is  called  induction  is  not  really  so.  For 
example,  if  I  find  that  water  quenches  my  thirst  to-day,  I  shall 
probably  resort  to  water  to-morrow  when  I  am  thirsty.  But 
this  does  not  necessarily  imply  induction.  It  may  be  mere 
associative  expectation,  and  we  find  it  constantly  exercised  by 
the  lower  animals.  It  is  not  induction  unless  a  general  truth 
be  derived  by  the  mind,  as,  in  this  case,  that  water  always 
quenches  thirst,  the  circumstances  remaining  the  same. 

Of  course,  the  reduction  of  all  reasoning  to  association  or 
associative  expectation  is  favorable  to  the  hypotheses  of  evolu- 
tion and  sensationalism.  And  we  contend  that  the  only  escape 
from  what  is  false  in  these  theories,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
true  doctrine  of  causation.  We  also  contend  that  this  is  the 
only  solid  basis  for  induction.  Mill  bases  induction  on  another 
induction,  as  the  Hindus  found  the  earth  on  an  elephant, 
which  stands  on  a  tortoise;  and  Bain  is  obliged  to  assume  an 
intuitive  axiom,  contrary  to  all  his  principles. 

Further  elaboration  of  the  theory  of  reasoning  does  not  seem 
necessary  to  psychology,  but  belongs  to  the  science  of  Logic. 


THE  LOWER  ANIMALS. 


The  curious  differences  and  more  curious  resemblances  be- 
tween the  intelligence  of  the  lower  animals  and  that  of  the 
human  race,  have  led  to  many  speculations.  Most  philoso- 
phers have  been  content,  however,  to  ignore  the  whole  subject, 
and  therefore,  we  cannot  quote  many  great  names  in  support 
of  our  conclusions.  The  truth  on  this  subject  lies  between 
two  extreme  parties. 

On  the  one  hand,  it  was  formerly  the  custom  to  consider 
the  intelligence  of  the  brutes  of  a  totally  different  kind  from 
that  of  man,  something  mysterious  and  inexplicable,  more  the 
result  of  divine  guidance  and  implantation  than  human  rea- 
son. 

On  the  other  hand  the  evolutionist  writers  of  the  present 
day  minimize  the  difference  between  man  and  the  brutes,  and 
teach  that  both  forms  of  intelligence  are  of  the  same  charac- 
ter, differing  only  in  degree  of  development  and  in  the  nature 
of  the  environment. 

Mr.  H.  Spencer  has  elaborately  endeavored  to  show  that 
there  is  a  gradation  by  insensible  degrees  from  the  lowest 
forms  of  sentient  existence  to  the  highest  achievements  of  hu- 
man thought;  that  there  is  no  break  in  the  progress,  no  place 
where  a  new  principle  comes  in  to  give  a  new  meaning  to  as- 
sociation and  sensation.  He  is  therefore  obliged  to  undertake 
to  demonstrate  that  all  reasoning  is  only  comparison,  induc- 
tion is  only  association,  concepts  are  not  mental  products  but 
brain  products  or  images,  and  all  the  realities  of  things  are  un- 
knowable. 


192  The  Intellect. 

We  affirm  that  the  reasoning  power  is  the  special  endow- 
ment of  man,  and  constitutes,  with  the  knowledge  of  moral 
distinctions,  his  crown  of  supremacy  over  the  creation.  Even 
Mr.  Lewes  sees  this  truth,  and  states  it  as  follows. 

"  When  it  is  said  that  animals,  however  intelligent,  have  no 
intellect,  the  meaning  is  that  they  have  perceptions  and  judg- 
ments, but  no  conceptions,  no  general  ideas,  no  symbols  for 
logical  operations.  They  are  intelligent,  for  we  See  them 
guided  to  action  by  judgment;  they  adapt  their  actions  by 
means  of  guiding  sensations,  and  adapt  things  to  their  ends. 
Their  mechanism  is  a  sentient,  intelligent  mechanism.  But 
they  have  not  conception,  or  what  we  especially  designate  as 
thought,  that  is,  that  logical  function  which  deals  with  gener- 
alities, ratios,  symbols,  as  feeling  deals  with  particulars  and  ob- 
jects."    (Problems,  I,  142.) 

Mr.  Lewes  proceeds,  it  is  true,  to  explain  this  away  to  some 
extent,  by  saying  that  language  is  the  necessary  instrument  of 
these  processes  of  conception  and  reasoning,  without  which 
man  would  be  a  mere  animal.  "  Language  is  the  creator  and 
sustainer  of  that  ideal  world  in  which  the  noblest  part  of  hu- 
man activity  finds  a  theatre."  (154.)  This  contains  an  im- 
portant truth  and  one  often  overlooked.  The  necessity  of 
language  to  abstract  thought  is  often  underestimated.  But 
language  is  a  possession  of  man,  not  a  faculty.  It  is  the  in- 
tellect of  man  which  requires  language,  not  language  which 
produces  intellect. 

Many  of  the  brutes  have  organs  well  enough  adapted  for 
some  kind  of  articulate  speech,  and  some  can  imitate  very  well 
the  sounds  of  the  human  voice.  They  could  learn  to  speak  if 
they  had  any  occasion  to  do  so,  but  they  have  no  thoughts 
that  need  any  expression  beyond  the  power  of  cries  and  gest- 
ures. "  There  is  no  occasion  for  language  proper,  and  no 
ability  to  acquire  it,  without  the  power  of  abstraction.     .     .     . 


The  Lower  Animals.  193 

So  long  as  the  mind  deals  only  with  concrete  things,  their  im- 
ages and  the  impressions  left  by  them  on  the  memory,  they 
themselves  serve  as  a  sufficient  attachment  to  experience,  and 
the  only  attachment  of  which  it  can  avail  itself.  The  moment, 
however,  the  mind  reaches  an  abstract  relation,  separates  the 
place,  time,  and  causal  dependencies  of  things  from  the  things 
themselves,  it  requires  language  to  designate,  retain,  and  im- 
part these  products  of  thought.  .  .  .  Speech  is  the  su- 
preme instrument  of  abstract  thought,  and  all  thought  proper  is 
abstract."     (Bascom,  Comparative  Psychology,  214.) 

The  lower  animals  have  no  abstract  ideas,  can  form  no  con- 
cepts, and  can  thus  have  no  material  of  reasoning  in  the  true 
sense  of  the  word.  It  is  true  they  perform  many  actions 
which  are  often  attributed  to  reasoning;  but  in  this  matter 
three  points  should  be  remembered.  (1)  There  is  much  con- 
fusion in  the  way  in  which  such  words  as  reasoning,  induction, 
thought,  etc.,  are  used,  and  the  observers  of  animals  are  sel- 
dom trained  to  accuracy  and  carefulness  in  the  use  of  logical 
and  philosophical  terms.  (2)  There  is  much  looseness  of 
description  current  on  such  subjects,  although  a  mere  un- 
noticed trifle  may  be  of  fundamental  importance  toward  a 
right  or  wrong  theory  of  the  subject.  There  is  also  much  ex- 
aggeration. (3)  Most  writers  are  somewhat  under  the  influ- 
ence of  prejudgment,  naturalists  in  favor  of  evolution,  phi- 
losophers in  favor  of  the  glory  of  abstract  thought. 

The  mental  life  of  the  brutes  is  associative,  and  association 
is  an  automatic  coherence  of  impressions.  They  are  capable 
of  what  some  call  induction,  but  that  kind  of  induction  is 
really  associative  expectation,  as  we  have  seen.  Real  induc- 
tion results  in  a  universal. 

A  careful  inspection  of  the  most  wonderful  instincts  and 
feats  of  intelligence  authentically  recorded  of  animals,  shows 
that  in  many  cases  association  and  automatic  action  are  suffi- 


194  THE  Intellect. 

ch&nt  to  account  for  what  has  been  called  the  work  of  reason, 
and  it  may  fairly  be  said  that  probably  in  all  such  cases  the 
real  difficulty  is  no  greater. 

Instinct  is  a  kind  of  automatic  intelligence.  "  Instinct," 
says  Mr.  Herbert-  Spencer,  "  may  be  regarded  as  a  kind  of  or- 
ganized memory."  (Psychology,  I,  445.)  It  has  grown  up 
with  the  organism,  and  is  really  a  part  of  the  organism.  This 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  those  animals  most  remarkable  for 
instinct  are  incapable  of  changing  their  habits,  or  learning  any- 
thing new,  or  adapting  themselves  to  new  circumstances.  A 
nation  of  ants  or  bees  is  like  the  Chinese  nation.  Supersti- 
tions, habits,  customs,  ingrained  in  the  brain  by  centuries  of 
stupid  repetition,  become  so  nearly  automatic  that  such  a  peo- 
ple cannot  conceive  of  a  change,  of  an  improvement,  of  a  dif- 
ferent order  of  society.  So  the  ants  and  bees,  having  become 
fully  adapted  to  their  environment  remain  the  same  even 
when  the  environment  is  changed,  with  instincts  as  unchange- 
able as  the  superstitions  of  arrested  civilization. 

Bees,  though  taken  to  a  tropical  climate,  continue  to  lay  up 
honey,  where  it  is  useless  to  them.  Hens  often  set  without 
eggs.  Beavers  in  captivity  sometimes  build  dams  in  the  cor- 
ners of  the  room.  Sir  John  Lubbock  tried  to  make  ants 
build  a  bridge,  but  they  would  not  even  lay  a  bit  of  straw 
across  a .  crack  in  the  ground,  could  not  learn  anything  new. 
He  also  showed  that  "  ants  and  bees  communicate  little  with 
each  other,  far  less  than  has  been  supposed;  that  they  do  not 
report  directions  and  plans,  and  have  but  a  limited  knowledge 
of  them,  and  move  chiefly  by  scent.  They  are  inattentive  to 
sounds,  guide  themselves  but  little  by  vision,  and  have  very 
acute  scent  and  touch.  These  are  the  senses  which  favor  or- 
ganic development,  while  vision,  and  above  all  hearing,  min- 
ister to  reflection."     (Bascom,  op.  cit.,  154.) 

"  Parasites  on  bees  that  could  be  easily  removed  by  com- 


The  Lower   Animals. 

panions  are  allowed  to  remain,  the  sufferer  receiving  no  aid. 
If  we  compare  bees  and  ants  with  birds,  we  shall  find 
the  latter  more  free  and  variable  in  their  constructive  methods, 
not  because  they  show  more  skill  than  the  insects,  but  because 
a  larger  share  of  intelligence  and  a  smaller  share  of  instinct  go 
to  their  composition." 

The  automatic  nature  of  instinct  may  also  be  seen  directly. 
Many  instincts  are  the  result  of  structure,  or  at  least  correlated 
with  a  peculiar  structure.  The  bee  could  not  build  cells  with- 
out the  power  of  secreting  wax;  the  two  capabilities  are  cor- 
relative. The  silk-wrorm  and  the  spider  must  be  able  to  spin, 
and  the  hornet  to  make  paper,  the  fighting-ant  to  secrete  poison, 
and  the  beetle  to  generate  a  strong  odor,  or  their  wonderful  in- 
stincts could  not  be  shown  to  exist.  "  The  organ  and  the 
function  correlate,  and  find  their  simple  expression  in  the  in- 
stinctive action.  .  .  .  Nor  is  it  easy  to  understand  how 
the  two  could  have  arisen  otherwise  than  together  as  parts  of 
the  same  organic  development.  ...  The  organs  can 
hardly  be  supposed  to  have  existed  without  the  function,  wait- 
ing for  experience  to  impart  it;  nor  could  experience  direct  its 
use  till  the  function  *was  present."     (Bascom,  op.  cit.  157,  175.) 

A  multitude  of  examples  might  be  quoted  of  the  stupidity 
of  animals,  showing  their  inability  to  learn,  to  form  new  habits, 
to  adapt  themselves  to  new  circumstances.  The  number  of 
such  anecdotes  is  hardly  inferior  to  the  stories  of  their  wonder- 
ful instincts.  A  young  chicken  cannot  learn  from  a  young 
turkey  the  useful  art  of  catching  flies.  "  A  hen  will  adhere  to 
her  empty  nest,  even  after  violent  dissuasion."  "  After  bring- 
ing a  caterpillar  to  her  nest,  the  wasp  always  leaves  it  before 
the  entrance  and  goes  in  to  see  if  everything  is  in  order  within 
the  cavity.  During  this  absence  of  the  wasp  Fabre  removed 
her  booty  to  some  distance,  forty  times  in  succession.  Forty 
times  the  wasp  brought  it  back,  but  each  time  examined  her 


196  The  Intellect. 

nest  afresh  before  she  attempted  to  put  her  prey  into  it." 
(Brehm,  in  Bascom,  225.) 

The  training  which  men  sometimes  bestow  upon  the  brutes 
never  develops  reason,  but  only  forms  new  associations.  Ham- 
erton  remarks  of  a  wonderfully  trained  company  of  dogs,  that 
when  their  master  died,  no  one  else  could  get  them  to  do  a 
single  trick.  "  When  the  ox  obeys  a  word  of  command,  there 
is  in  this  obedience  no  more  comprehension  of  language  than 
when  he  is  quickened  by  a  goad." 

If  instinct  were  of  the  same  nature  as  reasoning,  it  would 
be  of  a  vastly  higher  degree,  and  would  show  a  stage  of  knowl- 
edge in  the  bee  and  the  spider  far  above,  not  below,  that  of 
man.  If  the  comb  of  the  bee  were  planned  and  made  as  a 
man's  house  is  made,  it  would  imply  an  amount  of  mathemati- 
cal knowledge  attainable  by  few  men  even  in  this  developed 
age.  Such  an  argument  would  prove  too  much.  Accordingly, 
the  usual  attempt  is  to  reduce  the  intelligence  of  man  to  as- 
sociation, or  automatic  action. 

Man  does  not  have  these  strange  unreasoning  actions,  in  so 
far  as  he  does  not  need  them,  being  guided  by  a  higher  asso- 
ciative power,  or  by  true  reason.  The  new-born  child  cries 
when  the  cold  air  reaches  his  lungs,  and  sucks  when  his  lips 
feel  the  breast,  and  these  are  automatic  actions,  like  those  of 
wasps  and  bees.  But  beyond  these  he  has  hardly  a  trace  of 
instinct  proper. 

Yet  men  do  actually  lead,  to  a  great  extent,  an  associative 
life,  similar  to  that  of  the  highest  of  the  brutes.  Many  of  our 
actions  and  series  of  actions  are  guided  by  habit,  require  no 
reasoning,  and  exhibit  no  mental  activity  but  association.  Who 
has  not  heard  even  a  long  conversation  without  a  trace  of  in- 
tellect, in  the  sense  *of  reasoning  power?  Instinct  and  real 
intelligence,  are  always  in  inverse  ratio,  as  also  are  association 
and  reasoning.     When  the  mind  of  a  nation  becomes  stereo- 


The  Lower   Animals.  197 

typed  in  superstition  and  custom,  it  forgets  to  a  great  extent 
its  privilege  of  true  thought,  and  lives  an  associative  life,  little 
above  the  brutes. 

Beast-minds  must  of  course  act  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
human  mind,  so  far  as  they  are  conditioned  by  the  nature  of 
the  objects  of  knowledge.  Since  the  external  world  exists  in 
space,  and  cannot  otherwise  exist,  it  must  be  known,  if  known 
at  all,  under  relations  of  space,  both  by  men  and'  by  brutes. 
But  the  abstract  idea  of  space,  the  generalized  concept,  is  some- 
thing which  no  beast-mind  can  frame. 

There  is  no  approach  in  the  animals  to  any  such  capacity. 
To  affirm  that  they  form  abstracts  and  concepts  implies  a  false 
idea  of  what  abstracts  and  concepts  are,  confusing  them  with 
images,  representations.  These  two  theories  are  logically  in- 
separable;— (i)  That  the  mind  of  man  is  a  gradual  develop- 
ment from  the  intelligence  of  brutes,  without  any  difference 
in  kind.  (2)  That  concepts  and  abstracts  are  the  result  of  the 
action  of  a  series  of  objects  on  the  mind,  not  of  the  mind  on 
a  series  of  objects. 

As  to  the  question,  whether  the  mental  life  of  the  animals  is 
a  manifestation  of  an  immaterial  principle,  nothing  is  really 
known  about  it.  Some  reference  will  be  made  to  it  under  the 
next  head.  *J 


NATURE  OF  THE  MIND. 


Having  studied  the  phenomena  of  intellect  we  are  prepared 
to  ask  understanding^  the  question: — What  is  the  mind,  the 
subject  of  these  phenomena  ?  Is  the  term  mind  only  another 
name  for  the  brain,  acting  in  certain  higher  relations?  Can 
the  phenomena  we  have  described  be  accounted  for  on  the 
supposition  that  thought  and  feeling  and  choice  are  products 
of  the  interactions  of  nerve-cells  in  the  brain?  Or  are  the 
powers  we  have  discussed  too  peculiar,  too  wonderful,  too  dif- 
ferent from  the  properties  of  matter,  to  admit  such  a  supposi- 
tion ?  Must  we  pass  over  into  the  realm  of  the  inconceivable, 
the  immaterial,  the  spiritual,  in  order  to  find  an  agent  capable 
of  these  functions  ? 

A  theory  of  the  mind  not  uncommon  in  ancient  times,  is 
that  the  mind  is  a  product  of  the  harmonious  blending  of  all 
the  powers  of  the  body.  The  favorite  illustration  was  that  as 
a  musical  instrument  produces  music  when  all  its  parts  are  at- 
tuned and  proportioned,  so  the  body  produces  the  soul  or  mind. 
But  this  comparison  really  favors  the  opposite  theory,  for  a 
musical  instrument  requires  a  player,  or  it  makes  no  music, 
the  soul  corresponds  not  to  the  music,  but  to  the  player.  But 
dropping  this  unfortunate  comparison,  the  soul  cannot  con- 
sist in  a  mere  consensus  (inbegriff)  of  all  the  atoms  of  the  body. 
The  materials  of  the  body  are  constantly  changing.  Several 
times  in  an  average  life,  it  is  supposed,  they  are  all  removed 
and   replaced,  yet  the  personality  remains  the  same.     Limbs 


Nature  of  the  Mind.  199 

may  be  lost,  senses  destroyed,  yet  the  mind  not  seriously  im- 
paired. The  whole  body  therefore  cannot  be  the  producer  of 
the  mind. 

A  somewhat  similar  view  is  the  modern  theory  that  the  mind 
is  a  series  of  sensations  and  feelings.  This  is  rather  held  dog- 
matically than  attempted  to  be  proved  by  the  sensationalist 
school  of  writers.  Especially  since  Mr.  Mill  admitted  that 
this  series  of  sensations  must  be  held  to  be  aware  of  itself  as 
past  and  future,  and  that  "this  theory  has  intrinsic  difficulties 
which  it  seems  to  me  beyond  the  power  of  metaphysical  analysis 
to  remove,"  the  theory  has  had  but  little  vitality  of  its  own. 
We  have  already  referred  to  the  difficulties  of  this  view.  It 
is  really  indistinguishable  from  materialism.  For,  to  say  that 
a  series  of  sensations  passively  received  makes  up  the  mind  is 
to 'say  that  the  mind  is  a  function  of  the  brain.  All  other  phi- 
losophers mean  by  the  mind  that  which  thinks,  that  which  has 
a  series  of  sensations.  It  is  absurd  to  say  that  a  series  of  sen- 
sations has  a  series  of  sensations,  either  actively  or  passively. 
This  view  can  really  mean  nothing  but  that  the  brain  is  the 
mind.  These  writers  are  thus  endeavoring,  by  using  the  term 
mind  in  a  new  and  strange  signification,  not  equivalent  to  "that 
which  thinks,"  to  escape  the  charge  of  materialism. 

Mr.  H.  Spencer  has  grafted  the  associationalist  psychology 
upon  the  hypothesis  of  evolution.  He  recognizes  the  absurd- 
ity of  denning  mind  as  a  series  of  sensations.  "  The  feelings 
called  sensations  cannot  of  themselves  constitute  mind.  .  . 
Mind  is  constituted  only  when  each  sensation  is  assimilated 
to  the  faint  forms  of  antecedent  like  sensations."  (Psychology, 
I,  185.)  This  means,  we  suppose,  that  memory  is  an  essential 
power  of  mind.  Again; — "The  progress  of  correspondence 
between  the  organism  and  its  environment  necessitates  a 
gradual  reduction  of  the  sensorial  changes  to  a  succession, 
and  by  so  doing  evolves  a  distinct  consciousness,  a  conscious- 


200  The  Intellect. 

ness  that  becomes  higher  as  the  succession  becomes  more 
rapid  and  the  correspondence  more  complete."     (I,  403.) 

Why  successive  changes  necessitate  consciousness  Mr.  Spencer 
does  not  explain;  but  these  and  other  passages  seem  to  imply 
that,  at  a  certain  stage  of-  progress,  there  arises  a  new  kind  of 
being,  capable  of  memory  and  consciousness.  Accordingly, 
he  has  a  chapter  on  the  "Substance  of  Mind,"  in  which  he 
undertakes  to  prove  that  if  there  be  any  substance  underlying 
the  phenomena  it  must  be  unknowable.  "  If  every  state  of 
mind  is  some  modification  of  this  substance  of  mind,  there 
can  be  no  state  of  mind  in  svhich  the  unmodified  substance 
of  mind  is  present."  (I,  146.)  Very  true!  Substance  is 
known  only  through  phenomena,  as  all  philosophers  admit. 
Being,  apart  from  quality,  relation,  or  phenomenon,  is  equiva- 
lent to  non-being.  Again  he  says: — "Knowledge  implies 
something  known,  and  something  which  knows."     (II,  307.) 

But  in  many  other  passages  Mr.  Spencer  speaks  of  mind 
very  much  as  do  Bain  and  Mill.  He  speaks  of  "  the  succes- 
sive changes  which  constitute  intelligence."  (I,  403.)  He 
says; — "  The  proximate  components  of  mind  are  of  two 
broadly  contrasted  kinds,  feelings  and  the  relations  between 
feelings."  (I,  163.)  "The  multitudinous  forms  of  mind 
known  as  different  feelings  may  be  composed  of  simpler  units 
of  feeling."     (I,  156.) 

The  origin  of  mind  he  describes  as  follows.  "  As  soon  as 
the  organism,  feebly  sensitive  to  a  jar  or  vibration  propagated 
through  its  medium,  contracts  itself  so  as  to  be  in  less  danger 
from  the  adjacent  source  of  disturbance,  we  perceive  a  nas- 
cent form  of  the  life  classed  as  psychical."  (I,  392.)  But 
such  actions  are  plainly  automatic;  mind,  then,  on  this  theory* 
is  not  that  which  thinks  and  feels,  but  something  made  up  of 
nervous  shocks.  Indeed,  he  uses  this  very  phrase  "  nervous 
shocks  "  in  just  this  way.      Professor  Fiske,  in  "  Cosmic  Phi- 


Nature  of  the  Mind.  201 

losophy,"  tendered  the  amendment,  "  psychical  shocks,"  which 
Mr.  Spencer  accepted  as  expressing  his  meaning,  showing  that 
in  his  view  nervous  shocks  and  psychical  shocks  are  only  differ- 
ent names  for  the  same  phenomena. 

Mr.  Spencer  admits,  in  the  following  passages,  that  his  theory 
is  inadequate  to  account  for  the  phenomena  commonly  known 
as  mental  action.  "  Even  could  we  succeed  in  proving  that 
mind  consists  of  homogeneous  units  of  feeling  of  the  nature 
specified,  we  should  be  unable  to  say  what  the  mind  is.  .  » 
Let  it  be  granted  that  all  existence  distinguished  as  subjective 
is  resolvable  into  units  of  consciousness,  similar  in  kind  to 
those  which  we  know  as  nervous  shocks,  each  of  which  is  a 
correlative  of  a  rythmical  motion  of  a  material  unit  or  group 
of  such  units.  Can  we  then  think  of  the  subjective  and  ob- 
jective activities  as  the  same  ?  Can  the  oscillations  of  a  mole- 
cule be  represented  in  consciousness  side  by  side  with  a  nerv- 
ous shock,  and  the  two  be  recognized  as  one  ?  No  effort 
enables  us  to  assimilate  them.  That  a  unit  of  feeling  has 
nothing  in  common  with  a  unit  of  motion  becomes  more  than 
ever  manifest  when  we  bring  the  two  into  juxtaposition."     (I, 

157,  158.) 

All  views  of  this  character  proceed  on  the  supposition  that 
matter  is  not  the  dead,  merely  space-filling  reality  of  the  ordi- 
nary view,  but  a  far  different  thing,  "  having  within  it  the 
promise  and  potency  of  all  terrestrial  life,"  and  so  of  mental 
phenomena  also.  "  Materialistic  views  which  really  have  any 
faith  in  their  own  affirmations,  proceed  from  the  assumption 
that  '  matter J  is  something  far  better  than  the  name  denotes, 
or  than  it  appears  from  the  outside,  but  has  a  property  of  its 
own,  out  of  which  spiritual  states  are  developed,  just  as  out  of 
another  property  are  developed  extension,  impenetrability,  etc." 
(Lotze,  Dictate,  Psychologie,  §60.) 

But  to  affirm  that  there  is  but  one  substance,  a  "  two-faced 


202  The  Intellect. 

somewhat,"  with  two  sets  of  attributes,  physical  on  one  side 
and  mental  on  the  other,  is  a  doctrine  not  practically  distin- 
guishable from  pantheism.  It  matters  little  whether  we  call 
the  one  substance  Matter,  or  God,  and  the  system  pantheism, 
or  materialism,  or  cosmism,  it  meets  with  all  the  difficulties 
and  objections  of  pantheism. 

The  psychological  objection  to  such  a  scheme  is,  that  it  can- 
not account  for  the  phenomena  of  the  unity  of  consciousness, 
and  the  individuality  of  minds,  (i)  Unity  of  consciousness 
cannot  arise  from  a  congeries  of  material  atoms.  The  phi- 
losophers who  hold  this  theory  make  much  of  atoms,  molecules, 
elements,  nerve-cells,  and  the  interaction  of  these  elements, 
whether  these  things  are  consistent  with  their  monism  or  not. 
A  consciousness  resulting  from  a  consensus  of  such  atoms  or 
elements  should  be  manifold  or  fragmentary.  All  analogies  of 
reasoning  require  that,  in  order  to  produce  a  unitary  con- 
sciousness out  of  such  a  collection  of  elements,  there  should  be 
some  dominant  entity,  perduring  throughout  the  changes  of 
the  atoms,  and  making  use  of  them  for  higher  ends. 

"It  is  impossible,"  says  Lotze,  "on  this  view  to  conceive 
that  unity  of  consciousness  which  is  a  fact  of  experience,  and 
which  must  not  be  arbitrarily  withdrawn  because  it  is  mysteri- 
ous, in  order  to  explain  the  rest  more  easily."  And  he  goes  on,  in 
a  passage  too  long  for  quotation,  to  show  that  all  physical  analo- 
gies, such  as  the  new  force  which  is  the  resultant  of  the  com- 
position of  forces,  are  inapplicable  and  misleading.  (Dictate, 
Psychologie,  §61.) 

What  has  to  be  accounted  for  is  not  simply  a  series  of 
feelings,  but  a  "series  aware  of  itself;"  the  ineradicable  be- 
lief in  the  unity  and  identity  of  the  thinking  principle  of 
each  person.     (See  Dfbal,  empirische  Psychologie,  15.) 

(2)  The  conscious  separate  individuality  of  each,  mind,  is 
inexplicable  on  such  a  theory.     If  matter  be  a  continuous  sub- 


Nature  of  the  Mind.  203 

stance,  underlying  with  its  single  being  all  atoms  and  molecules, 
and  endowed  with  divine  as  well  as  material  attributes,  this 
might  be  conceived  to  account  for  a  kind  of  diffused  intelli- 
gence or  omniscience,  as  in  the  pantheistic  hypothesis,  or  to 
account  for  a  consciousness  residing  in  each  molecule  sepa- 
rately, but  it  cannot  account  for  an  individual  consciousness,  of 
limited  extent.  Mr.  Spencer,  accordingly,  speaks  constantly 
of  "  mind,"  the  origin  and  composition  and  substance  of 
mind,  not  of  "a  mind,"  my  mind,  or  your  mind. 

"  The  notion  of  an  indefinite  thought-stuff,  which  admits  of 
integration,  implicitly  assumes  the  materiality  of  thought,  and 
results  from  the  fancy  that  thoughts  may  be  found  among 
external  objects.  But  thoughts  are  acts,  and  not  stuff  or 
material.  As  such  they  must  have  a  subject.  My  thoughts 
demand  a  subject,  and  that  subject  is  myself.  As  such  sub- 
ject or  agent,  I  am  a  substance,  in  the  only  intelligible  sense  of 
that  word."     (Bowne,  Metaphysics,   382.) 

It  is  then  mere  assumption  to  declare  that  the  brain  is  capa- 
ble of  producing  all  the  mental  phenomena,  without  any  higher 
principle,  by  reason  of  the  double  set  of  attributes  pertaining 
to  the  atoms  or  molecules  of  which  it  is  composed.  And  a 
multitude  of  facts  about  the  brain  go  to  show  this  result  correct. 

1.  Structure  and  development  of  brain  and  mental  capacity 
are  not  always  in  proportion,  either  in  man  or  in  the  lower 
animals.  The  brain  of  the  mollusk  is  not  less  developed  than 
that  of  the  insect,  but  the  latter  is  capable  of  far  higher  "  psy- 
chical action,"  even  higher  than  fishes  and  amphibia,  though 
these  far  more  nearly  resemble  man  in  nervous  structure.  The 
monkey  tribe  most  resemble  man,  but  elephants  and  dogs  are 
more  intelligent.  The  brain  of  the  dolphin  is  commonly  said 
to  be  the  most  developed  of  the  lower  animals,  but  no  great 
mental  gifts  accompany  it.  The  brain-structure  of  the  pachy- 
derms, elephants  and  swine,  do  not  differ  much,  it  is  said,  but 


2Q4  The  Intellect. 

the  difference  in  intellect  is  great.  The  brains  of  idiots,  ac- 
cording to  Longet,  are  sometimes  larger  and  with  completer 
convolutions  than  those  of  highly  gifted  men. 

2.  Disease  or  accident  has  removed  parts  of  the  brain  with- 
out destroying  the  integrity  of  thought  or  memory.  Longet 
relates  a  case  where  a  young  man  lost  an  entire  hemisphere  of 
the  brain  without  conspicuous  loss  of  mental  power.  Volkman 
describes  the  case  of  a  man  who  shot  two  balls  into  his  head, 
lost  a  large  quantity  of  brain,  and  became  blind,  but  was 
stronger  in  intellect  than  before. 

3.  Size  of  brain,  either  absolute  or  relative,  furnishes  no 
criterion  of  mental  ability.  Elephants  and  whales  have  larger 
brains  than  men.  But  some  animals  are  said  to  have  larger 
brains  in  proportion  to  their  weight  than  men.  If  the  author- 
ity of  Cuvier  be  not  sufficient  to  establish  this  last  proposition, 
we  may  yet  affirm,  on  the  authority  of  Huxley,  that  the  differ- 
ences in  cranial  capacity  among  men  are  far  greater  than 
between  men  and  apes.  But  the  mental  differences  among 
men,  on  the  contrary,  are  far  smaller  than  between  men  and 
apes. 

These  considerations  seem  sufficient  to  establish  the  view 
that  the  brain  is  not  an  adequate  cause  of  mental  action.  "  The 
uncritical  imagination  is,  of  course,  much  impressed  by  the 
excessive  fineness  of  the  elements,  and  by  the  darkness  which 
surrounds  brain-physiology;  and  this  darkness  and  mystery  pass 
for  argument.  .  .  .  But  the  question  as  to  the  reality  of 
the  soul  does  -  not  depend  on  brain-physiology  at  all.  The 
question  turns  on  the  nature  of  consciousness  and  on  the  im- 
possibility of  producing  the  one  from  the  many  and  the  iden- 
tical from  the  numerically  changing.  So  long  as  these  ideas 
are  hostile  and  mutually  exclusive,  so  long  will  materialism  be 
impossible  as  a  rational  theory,"     (Bowne,  Metaphysics,  375.) 

The  phenomena  of  the  human  intellect,  then,  seem  to  re- 


Nature  of  the  Mind.  205 

quire  as  their  ground  a  simple,  individual,  unitary  substance  in 
each  person,  of  a  different  nature  from  matter,  yet  able  to  be 
in  connection  with  a  material  organism. 

This  supposition  does  not  indeed  obviate  all  difficulties.  It 
would  be  to  be  supposed  that  on  such  a  subject  human  faculties 
would  be  able  to  trace  but  a  very  little  way  the  hidden  reality. 
We  make  no  pretensions  to  solving  all  the  problems,  or  an- 
swering all  the  questions  which  can  arise.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  most  candid  representatives  of  evolutionism  and 
empiricism  also  disclaim  all  such  pretensions.  "  The  latest 
results,"  says  Mr.  Fiske,  "of  scientific  inquiry,  whether  in  the 
region  of  objective  psychology  cr  molecular  physics,  leave  the 
gulf  between  matter  and  mind  quite  as  wide  as  it  was  judged 
to  be  in  the  time  of  Descartes."     (Cosmic  Philosophy,  II,  445.) 

But  if  we  accept  the  doctrine  of  the  individuality,  unity,  sim- 
plicity, and  immateriality  of  the  human  soul,  there  arises  an 
interesting  question, — How  far  do  the  mental  phenomena  of 
the  lower  animals  compel  us  to  the  same  conclusion  with  refer- 
ence to  beast-souls?  Very  little  is  known  on  which  to  base  an 
argument  on  this  point,  but  the  following  considerations  seem 
to  us  of  weight. 

1.  We  know  so  little  about  the  consciousness  of  the  brutes 
that  we  cannot  confidently  say  whether  it  is  of  such  a  nature  as 
to  require  a  simple  and  individual  subject  in  each  animal. 

2.  It  is  not  at  all  certain  that  immateriality  involves  either 
immortality  or  moral  freedom;  so  that  we  may  perhaps  admit 
an  immaterial  substratum  of  physical  life,  or  of  the  mental  life 
of  the  brutes,  without  in  the  least  derogating  from  the  superior 
dignity  of  the  human  soul  and  intellect. 

3.  We  have  seen  reason  to  believe  that  man  has  mental 
powers  higher  in  kind  and  not  simply  in  degree  than  those  cf 
the  brutes.  If  this  be  accepted,  we  may  perhaps  even  hold 
that  man's  physical  system  and  associative  mental  life  are  the 

H 


206  The  Intellect. 

product  of  evolution,  but  that  at  a  certain  time  God  breathed 
into  man  a  nobler  spirit,  endowed  him  with  personality  and 
immortality. 

Another  solution  should  be  mentioned,  as  ot  import  j  in 
the  history  of  thought,  namely  the  theory  of  metempsychosis. 
Philosophers  of  a  certain  turn  of  mind  have  been  wont  in  all 
ages  to  believe  that  souls  pass  through  lower  stages  of  existence 
in  various  lower  animals  before  entering  human  bodies,  and 
may  return  again  to  the  bottom  round  of  the  ladder  of  being, 
to  begin  once  more  their  weary  ascent,  as  a  punishment  for  sin. 
This  is  poetic  imagination,  not  sober  speculation. 

Another  interesting  question  is  the  location  of  the  soul  in 
the  body.  If  it  be  immaterial  we  cannot  probably  properly 
speak  of  it  as  being  in  any  point  or  points  of  space.  Yet 
many  writers,  though  accepting  the  immateriality  of  the  soul, 
have  sought  to  discover  its  location  in  the  body.  Descartes 
placed  it  in  a  part  of  the  brain  called  the  pineal  gland,  which 
however,  is  not  a  gland  at  all,  and  is  now  known  to  be  of  no 
more  importance  to  the  mental  life  than  any  other  part  of  the 
brain.  Others  have  located  it  in  the  whole  cerebrum,  and 
some  in  the  whole  body. 

Lotze,  accepting  the  Herbartian  doctrine  that  the  soul  is  a 
single  element,  a  monad,  yet  declares  that  it  may  occupy  more 
than  one  point  of  space  at  the  same  time,  in  the  brain  or  the 
body. 

More  important  is  the  question  of  the  relation  of  soul  and  body. 
That  there  is  such  a  connection,  that  each  has  a  wonderful  power 
over  the  other,  has  been  a  commonplace  of  philosophy  for  many 
ages.  A  vast  number  of  instances,  many  of  them  very  familiar, 
might  be  repeated.  How  soul  and  body  operate  on  each 
other,  either  in  these  abnormal  ways,  or  in  ordinary  perception 
or  volition,  cannot  be  said  to  be  within  the  range  of  human 
investigation.     The  pantheistic  or  monistic  explanation,  that 


Nature  of  the  Mind.  .     207 

they  are  both  of  the  same  essence,  seems  at  first  promising. 
But  on  reflection  we  see  that  it  is  just  as  hard  to  understand 
how  changes  in  one  set  of  qualities  can  produce  changes  or 
motions  in  another  set  of  qualities  of  the  same  substance,  as  it 
is  to  understand  how  two  distinct  substances  can  operate  on 
one  another.  Monism,  whether  it  spiritualizes  matter  or 
materializes  spirit,  can  afford  no  real  assistance. 

The  mystery  and  difficulty  may,  however,  be  divided,  if  not 
diminished  by  the  reflection  tha£  action  and  reaction  between 
two  atoms  of  matter  are  just  as  inexplicable  and  mysterious  as 
the  mutual  influence  of  soul  and  body.  But  here  we  are  look- 
ing over  the  boundary  of  the  field  of  metaphysics,  to  enter 
which  the  present  is  not  a  proper  occasion.  (See  Bowne's 
Metaphysics,  113.) 

The  subject  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  belongs  to  the 
science  of  theology. 


THE     FEELINGS, 

PRELIMINARIES. 


I.     DEFINITIONS. 

i.  The  term  "Feeling"  has  been  discussed  already  at  some 
length  (pp.  59-64).  Putting  aside  its  popular  and  colloquial 
uses,  it  means,  in  psychology,  the  capacity  for  experiencing 
pleasure  and  pain.  "  A  feeling "  is  thus  a  particular  experi- 
ence of  this  kind,  or  a  particular  class  of  such  experiences. 
But  these  experiences  are  so  complicated  with  the  various  proc- 
esses of  the  intellect,  and  so  modified  by  the  various  relations, — 
physical,  social,  and  moral, — in  which  they  occur,  and  the  dif- 
ferent occasions, — internal,  external,  simple,  and  complex, — 
which  excite  them,  that  the  term  "The  Feelings,"  with  the 
definite  Article,  is  unavoidably  used  to  denote  an  extensive 
range  of  our  mental  and  social  life.  It  is  our  present  task, 
therefore,  to  analyze  these  experiences,  and  trace  in  them  the 
elements  of  Feeling  and  of  Intellect. 

A  single  caution  is  perhaps  necessary.  In  speaking  of 
Feeling  as  mental  power,  we  do  not  imply  that  the  mind  is  an 
aggregate  of  parts  or  faculties,  mechanically  adjusted  to  each 
other.  (See  p.  13.)  But  rather,  the  different  forms  of  the 
mind's  activity  form  an  organism,  as  it  were,  being  means  and 
ends  for  one  another.  The  three  forms  or  methods  of  mental 
activity  are  inseparable.     We  are  obliged   to   describe    them 


*      Preliminaries.  209 

separately,  but    neither  pure  Intellect,  nor  pure  Feeling  nor 
pure  Will  can  exist. 

2.  Throughout  these  discussions  the  terms  Pleasure  and 
Pain  have  a  wide  signification;  the  former  means  any  agreeable 
feeling,  the  latter  any  disagreeable  one.  It  would  be  well  if 
usage  permitted  the  term  Unpleasure,  giving  us  two  correlative 
words,  like  the  German  Lust  and  Unlust  In  the  absence  of 
such  a  convenience,  we  are  obliged  to  use  the  ordinary  terms, 
pleasure  and  pain. 

II.     NOMENCLATURE. 

We  call  this  power  of  the  mind  by  the  name  Feeling,  and 
the  various  products  of  its  activity  we  call  Feelings;  but  we  do 
not  choose  this  nomenclature  because  it  is  perfect  or  free  from 
objection,  but  because  it  is,  on  the  whole,  the  most  convenient, 
and  is  already  in  somewhat  general  use. 

Other  names  are  used  by  various  writers,  but  they  all  seem 
to  us  to  be  still  more  objectionable.  Dr.  McCosh  and  others  use 
the  title  "The  Emotions."  We  object  to  this  that  it  is  com- 
monly and  properly  used  in  a  narrower  signification,  which  will 
be  explained  later  on.  It  is  hence  an  unusual,  if  not  inaccu- 
rate, use  of  language,  to  speak  of  Appetite,  Desire,  /Esthetic 
feeling,  Moral  feeling,  etc.,  as  Emotions,  for  Emotion  is 
properly  used  to  denote  a  class  of  feelings,  parallel  with  these. 
Again  Emotion  always  means  a  product,  and  cannot  denote  the 
power  of  experiencing  the  feeling;  an  infelicity  which  is  avoided 
by  saying  Feelings  and  Feeling. 

Many  American  writers  use  the  term  Sensibility,  in  the 
Singular,  for  the  power,  and  in  the  Plural  for  its  products. 
This  word,  however,  is  generally  used  by  English  writers  in  a 
different  meaning,  including  sensation,  and  not  including  the 
higher  kinds  of  feeling.  Thus,  'Calderwood,  in  the  additions 
to  Fleming's  Vocabulary,  defines  Sensibility  as  ';the  capacity 


2io  The  Feelings.     ♦ 

for  receiving  impressions,  belonging  to  the  extremity  of  the 
nerves  of  sensation."  It  is,  besides,  a  long  and  awkward 
word,  and  is  colloquially  used  in  the  meaning  of  "  sensitive- 
ness." 

The  term  "Susceptibility,"  used  by  some,  besides  being  still 
longer  and  more  awkward,  has  the  disadvantage  of  having  a 
passive  signification,  and  thus  seeming  to  imply  that  this  power 
of  the  mind  is  receptive  only. 

III.     CLASSIFICATION. 

Most  writers  on  this  subject  deem  it  necessary  to  frame  a 
complete  classification  of  the  feelings.  It  is  impossible,  how- 
ever, to  classify  them  without  cross-divisions.  For  example, 
Dr.  Thomas  Brown  divides  the  Feelings  according  to  time  into 
Retrospective,  Immediate,  and  Prospective;  an  ingenious  and 
suggestive  division.  But  it  obliges  him  to  subdivide  each  class 
of  feelings,  according  as  they  have  reference  to  self  or  to  other 
persons,  and  again  according  as  they  have  or  have  not  moral 
quality.  This  complication  brings  together  under  one  head 
such  incongruous  feelings  as  cheerfulness,  wonder,  the  feeling 
of  beauty  and  that  of  the  ludicrous.  Nothing  can  be  gained 
by  adhering  to  such  a  scheme. 

Several  writers  divide  the  Feelings  into  Physical,  Intellectual, 
and  Spiritual;  but  many  of  them  may  run  through  the  whole 
three  phases,  recurring  in  various  combinations.  The  cross- 
divisions  thus  required  lead  either  to  absurd  combinations  like 
those  of  Brown,  or  to  a  superficial  treatment  of  the  subject. 
The  popular  names,  moreover,  by  which  they  are  generally 
designated,  are  so  inexact  and  vacillating  that  no  classification 
founded  on  them  can  have  any  value.  But  it  is  impossible  to 
restrict  these  names  to  definite  and  accurate  use,  because  of 
their  extremely  common  coiroquial  use. 

Attempts  have  been  made,  especially  by  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer 


Preliminaries.  211 

and  his  followers,  to  overcome  this  difficulty  by  providing  a 
fully  descriptive  name  for  each  class  of  feelings,  indicating  their 
origin  and  connection.  This  method  has  been  carried  to  an 
extreme,  with  great  ingenuity,  by  Mercier,  in  "Mind"  for  1884. 
It  leads  to  such  cumbrous  titles  as, — "Self-conservative  En- 
vironmentally-initiated" feelings,  and  to  such  vague  terms  as 
"Antagonistic  Feeling."  This  last,  for  example,  is  defined  by 
Mercier  as  "Feeling  which  corresponds  with  the  relation  to. 
the  organism  of  an  Agent  in  the  environment  which  is  cog- 
nized as  actively  noxious."  It  is  also  subdivided  according  as 
the  "noxious  agent"  is  of  greater  or  less  power,  according  as 
counteraction  is  or  is  not  elicited,  and  according  to  the  form  of 
this  counteraction  when  elicited,  and  its  success  or  lack  of 
success.  But  these  subdivisions  have  to  be  reduced,  at  last, 
to  the  common,  popular  terms,  whereupon  the  division  is  found 
to  be  redundant.  Each  feeling,  fear,  for  instance,  may  appear 
under  each  particular  set  of  circumstances.  Such  a  classifica- 
tion, however  interesting,  adds  nothing  to  our  real  knowledge. 
We  do  not  attempt  any  classification  of  the  feelings,  but  shall 
describe  them  in  the  order,  so  far  as  possible,  of  their  physio- 
logical relations.  But  we  shall  follow  out  each  class  or  kind  of 
feeling,  when  once  taken  up,  through  all  its  forms  and  implica- 
tions, so  far  as  seems  best.  Thus,  the  discussion  of  Pleasure  and 
Pain,  carried  up  into  the  pleasures  of  the  sense  of  Sight,  natur- 
ally suggests  the  theory  of  Beauty;  and  the  Emotions,  or  feel- 
ings which  express  themselves  in  bodily  movements,  are  natur- 
ally followed  by  Laughter,  and  this  by  the  Idea  of  the  Comic. 


212  The  Feelings. 

IV.     FEELING  AND  SENSATION. 

i.  It  is  not  easy  to  draw  a  distinct  line  between  Sensation 
and  Feeling.  The  internal  or  organic  sensations  (see  p.  21), 
occupy  the  middle  ground  between  them,  and  are  perhaps  the 
substratum,  out  of  which  both  are  developed.  For  example, 
hunger  and  thirst  may  be  said  to  be  pains,  or  called  sensations 
which  give  information  of  emptiness  of  the  stomach  and  dry- 
ness of  the  throat. 

Physical  feeling,  again,  is  usually  inseparable  from  sensation. 
For  example,  toothache  seems  purely  a  pain;  but  it  is  always 
accompanied  with  a  localizing  sensation,  more  or  less  accu- 
rate, conveying  information  of  its  locality,  in  other  words, 
having  an  intellectual  content.  The  same  is  true  of  nearly  all 
physical  feelings. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  held  by  many  authorities  that  all 
sensation  is  accompanied  with  feeling,  that  is,  every  sensation 
has  an  agreeable  or  disagreeable  to?ie.  The  plain  fact  that  we 
are  not  always  conscious  of  this  tone,  they  account  for  by  the 
theory  that  our  attention  is  usually  fixed  on  the  content  of  a 
sensation,  owing  to  the  importance  of  this  for  our  daily  life,  so 
that  its  tone  is  lost  to  us.  (Lotze,  Dictate,  Psychologie,  §  48.) 
The  fact  seems  to  be  that  feeling  is  the  primitive  form  of  ex- 
perience, coming  earlier  in  the  individual  and  also  in  the  scale 
of  terrestrial  life,  than  discriminative  sensation. 

2.  Each  class  of  feelings,  as  of  sensations,  has  a  specific 
quality  of  its  own,  which  is  incommunicable  and  indescribable. 
Pleasure  and  Pain,  as  general  terms,  like  "color,"  do  not  des- 
ignate anything  actual,  but  an  abstraction  from  specific  pleas- 
ant and  unpleasant  experiences.     (Lotze,  op.  cit.,  §  48.) 

And  how  certain  nerve-changes  occasion  a  state  of  con- 
sciousness known  as  feeling,  is  as  completely  unknown  as  it  is 
why  a  certain  other  state,  or  change,  or  motion  of  a  nerve  oc- 
casions a  sensation  of  li^ht  or  sound. 


Preliminaries.-  213 

3.  Consciousness  accompanies  Feeling,  as  well  as  sensation. 
Without  the  knowledge  of  Self,  running  through  all  our  feel- 
ings, like  a  thread  by  which  they  are  held  together,  and  with- 
out a  felt  possibility  of  introspection  and  analysis  by  the  mind, 
there  is  no  feeling;  just  as  no  sensations  or  intellectual  phe- 
nomena are  possible  without  the  same  accompaniment. 

V.     FEELING  AND  INTELLECT. 

When  we  rise  into  the  higher  regions  of  the  mind,  a  paral- 
lelism may  be  noted  between  Intellect  and  Feeling. 

1.  There  is  a  similarity  in  the  resemblances  and  differences 
between  man  and  the  lower  animals.  The  latter  are  capable 
of  sensation,  perception,  memory,  and  common  imagination, 
but  are  never  known  to  exercise  abstract  reasoning,  creative 
imagination,  or  mathematical  deduction.  So  also  they  are 
capable  of  experiencing  pain,  hunger,  anger,  fear,  love,  hope, — 
but  not  sentimental  affection,  remorse,  moral  approval,  sense 
of  beauty  or  of  the. comic.  In  other  words,  the  lower  animals 
have  all  those  feelings  necessarily  connected  with  their  limited 
mental  experience,  but  are  incapable  of  those  which  depend 
upon  a  higher  range  of  intellectual  activity. 

2.  We  meet  here,  too,  with  the  same  conflict  between  op- 
posing schools  of  psychology.  Those  writers  who  derive  all 
the  intellectual  powers  from  sensation,  and  make  sensations 
transform  themselves  into  all  the  higher  intellectual  phenom- 
ena,— are  bound,  of  course,  to  treat  Feeling  in  the  same  way, 
and  make  simple  feelings  of  physical  pleasure  and  pain  trans- 
form themselves  into  all  the  most  complicated,  most  elevated, 
and  noblest  of  this  class  of  human  experiences. 

On  the  other  hand,  those  who  hold,  as  we  do,  that  human 
reason  cannot  be  thus  accounted  for,  must  also  hold  that  Feel- 
ing is  not  merely  parallel  with  sensation,  but  is  a  function  also 
of  the  Spirit,  entering  into  its-highest  manifestations. 


PLEASURE   AND   PAIN. 


After  these  preliminaries  we  have  first  to  inquire  into  the 
nature  of  Pleasure  and  Pain  themselves,  the  very  basis  of  all 
the  Feelings.  Following  our  general  plan,  we  shall  begin  with 
physical  pleasure,  and  pain  or  discomfort,  and  discuss  the  top- 
ics suggested  by  this,  before  taking  up  the  special  kinds  of  feel- 
ing, such  as  Emotion,  or  Desire. 

It  is  not.  always  easy  to  separate  between  sensations  which 
have  intellectual  content,  and  the  feelings  with  which  they  are 
accompanied,  constituting  what  is  called  their  tone.  If  we 
look  at  the  mid-day  sun,  the  pain  of  excessive  light  destroys 
perception.  When  we  are  discriminating  two  shades  of  color, 
we  receive  no  pleasure  from  either,  because  the  attention  is 
absorbed  in  the  intellectual  element  of  likeness  or.  difference. 

Recent  investigations  have  done  much,  however,  to  explain 
the  physiological  processes  which  accompany  physical  pleasure 
and  pain. 

PHYSIOLOGY    OF    PAIN. 

All  action  of  a  nerve,  and  hence  all  sensation,  is  accom- 
panied by  molecular  change  of  the  nerve-substance,  and  so  by 
waste.  When  the  waste  becomes  excessive,  through  long-con- 
tinued or  violent  stimulation,  fatigue,  disagreeable  feeling,  or 
even  pain,  results.  For  example,  an  extremely  loud  sound,  like 
a  cannon-shot;  an  excess  of  light,  as  when  staring  at  the  sun; 
a  biting  taste,  as  of  cayenne  pepper;  a  strong  smell,  as  of  am- 
monia; all  these  are  disagreeable,  and  soon  become  painful, 
and  deaden  the  sensibility  of  the  organ  involved,  showing  ex- 
haustion. 


"  Pleasure  and  Pain.  215 

Disintegration  or  disruption  of  tissue  is  but  a  more  extreme 
degree  of  the  same  experience.  For  example,  raw  mustard  on  the 
tongue  occasions  a  disagreeable  acrid  taste,  which  soon  becomes 
an  acute  pain;  and  on  any  other  part  of  the  skin,  it  causes, 
if  the  contact  is  continued  for  some  time,  acute  pain  and  blis- 
tering, which  is  plainly  disintegration  of  tissue.  But  pain  oc- 
curs only  in  those  tissues  which  are  "  supplied  with  cerebro- 
spinal nerves."  The  substance  of  the  brain  itself,  for  instance, 
is  not  sensitive,  and  no  pain  is  felt  when  it  is  injured  or  cut. 

PHYSIOLOGY    OF    PLEASURE. 

The  physiology  of  Pleasure  of  the  senses  is  not  so  easily 
traced.  But  it  seems  to  be  proved  that  pleasure  occurs  when 
the  waste  of  tissue  consequent  on  molecular  change  in  the 
nerve-endings  is  repaired  almost  or  quite  as  rapidly  as  it  occurs, 
or  else  stimulation  and  repair  alternate  at  very  short  intervals. 
For  example,  a  mass  of  bright  color  gives  pleasure;  and,  since 
green  tints  predominate  in  nature,  the  eye  has  become  ad- 
justed to  green,  and  can  endure  stimulation  by  that  color  far 
longer  than  by  any  other.  Hence  green  is  said  to  "  rest  the 
eye,"  to  be  less  fatiguing. 

But  change  from  one  color  to  another  gives  still  more  and 
higher  pleasure.  "  The  amount  of  pleasure  is  probably  in  the 
direct  ratio  of  the  number  of  nerve-fibres  involved,  and  in  the 
inverse  ratio  of  the  natural  frequency  of  excitation."  (Grant 
Allen,  Physiological  ^Esthetics,  25.) 

It  is  important  to  notice,  however,  that  variety  and  contrast 
introduce  the  intellectual  element  of  discrimination,  involving 
a  quite  different  and  higher  activity  than  mere  sense-stimula- 
tion by  a  mass  of  color. 

How  it  is  that  waste  or  destruction  of  nerve-substance  ap- 
pears in  consciousness  as  pain,  while  alternate  waste  or  repair 
of  nerve-substance  appear  in  consciousness  as  pleasure,  is  a 
mystery  on  which  these  investigations  throw  no  light. 


216  The  Feelings. 


PHILOSOPHICAL    FORMULA. 


But  the  philosophical  content,  the  real  meaning  of  pleasure 
and  pain,  may  perhaps  be  not  so  absolutely  beyond  our  reach, 
and  attempts  have  been  made  to  reduce  it  to  a  formula. 

As  to  physical  pleasure  and  pain,  there  seems  to  be  some 
approach  to  an  agreement  among  the  best  authorities  upon 
some  form  of  the  following  theory; — That  pleasure  is  an  ac- 
companiment of  those  experiences  which  tend  to  the  preserva- 
tion or  well-being  of  the  sentient  organism,  and  pain  a  con- 
comitant of  those  experiences  which  tend  to  the  destruction  or 
injury  of  that  organism.  For  obviously  the  opposite  arrange- 
ment would  tend,  on  the  whole,  to  the  extinction  of  all 
sentient  life  on  the  earth.  Mr.  Grant  Allen,  a  disciple  of 
Herbert  Spencer,  says; — "The  human  or  animal  organism 
may  be  conveniently  regarded  as  a  complicated  and  delicate 
machine,  specially  constructed  for  self-conservation  and  the 
production  of  like  organisms  in  the  future.  That  it  should  be 
so  constructed  as  to  correspond  with  the  environment  is  a  condi- 
tion-precedent of  its  existence  at  all.  Hence  every  organism,  in 
proportion  to  the  completeness  of  its  adaptation,  energetically 
resists  any  act  which  interferes  with  its  efficiency  as  a  working 
machine;  and  such  interferences  are  known  subjectively  as 
pains."     (Physiological  ^Esthetics,  17.) 

And  Mr.  Spencer  has  said,  to  the  same  effect; — "Pleasures 
are  the  incentives  to  life-supporting  acts,  and  pains  are  the  de- 
terrents from  life  destroying  acts."     (Psychology,  I,  284.) 

"Pleasure,"  says  President  Hopkins,  "seems  to  have  been  in- 
tended as  an  inducement  to  the  performance  of  acts  which  are 
to  have  remote  conseq  uences  of  which  the  agents  themselves 
are  often  either  ignorant  or  regardless.  The  pleasure  of  the 
child,  and  of  the  man  too,  in  eating,  and  in  muscular  move- 
ment, is  the  inducement  to  do  that  which  is  necessary  for  the 


Pleasure  and  Pain.  217 

up-building  of  the  body,  but  for  which  they  generally  have  no 
care."     (Lectures  on  Moral  Science,  61.) 

But  this  theory  must  meet  the  difficulty  that  pleasures,  if  too 
often  repeated,  become  injurious  to  the  organism  before  they 
become  painful;  while  pains,  if  not  excessive,  grow  less  by 
usage  and  habit,  and  cease  to  give  warning  of  injury, — in- 
stance, the  violently  noxious  taste  of  tobacco.  Mr.  Allen 
recognizes  the  difficulty  as  follows.  "  Pleasure  and  pain  are 
only  the  reflex  of  the  actual  state  of  the  nerves,  and  do  not 
necessarily  yield  any  indications  of  their  future  state.  Hence,, 
actions  which  will  ultimately  yield  painful  sensations,  may  in 
their  earlier  stages  be  pleasurable,  and  vice  versa."  (Op. 
cit.  29.) 

Mr.  Spencer  and  his  disciple  both  meet  the  difficulty  by 
making  an  exception,  and  declaring  that  "  in  the  vast  majority 
of  cases  .  .  .  .  whatever  is  prejudicial  or  beneficial  to 
the  organism  as  a  whole,  is  generally  painful  or  pleasurable 
respectively.''  But  in  nature  the  exceptions  seem  to  reach  as 
wide  as  the  rule.  Nearly  all  animals  will  injure  themselves  by 
over-eating  when  opportunity  is  afforded  them;  the  pleasures  of 
combat  urge  many  of  them  to  their  destruction;  in  a  drought, 
many  animals,  when  they  at  last  reach  the  water,  will  drink 
themselves  to  death,  if  permitted.  Pleasure  and  pain  then, 
as  motives  of  the  physical  life,  need  to  be  overruled  by  cir- 
cumstances or  by  reason.  What  Providence  does  objectively 
for  the  brutes,  by  means  of  their  "environment,"  is  done  for 
man  subjectively,  by  giving  him  reason  and  foresight.  The 
formula  must  recognize  this  before  it  can  be  made  universal. 

There  is  a  valuable  suggestion  in  Aristotle's  definition,  that 
pleasure  is  action;  it  is  the  normal  result  of  proper  activity- 
Lotze  has  attained  a  better  formula  than  Spencer's,  by  reach- 
ing it  from  this  side.  "Feeling  is  the  consequence  and  signal 
of  coincidence  or  conflict  between  the  excitations  produced  in 


218  The  Feelings. 

us  and  the  conditions  of  our  permanent  well  being.  Pleasure 
wo  aid  then  follow  every  use  of  our  natural  powers  within  the 
limits  of  these  conditions,  and  'unpleasure'  every  one  in  con- 
flict with  those  conditions."  (Dictate,  Psychologie  §47.)  Here 
the  necessary  limitations  are  supplied,  and  this  formula  has 
the  advantage  that  it  is  easily  carried  up  into  the  higher  regions 
of  the  intellect,  and  also  into  the  domain  of  Ethics,  where  we 
learn  that  the  highest  good  results  "from  the  activity  of  the 
highest  powers  in  a  right  relation  to  their  highest  object." 
(Hopkins,  Moral  Science,  53.) 

Yet  we  need  to  notice  that  the  formula  is  a  general  one,  and 
that  pleasure  and  pain  cannot  always  be  antithetically  balanced 
against  each  other.  Some  pains  are  acute,  and  some  are  dull* 
some  pleasures  are  intense,  and  others  are  massive.  But  there 
is  no  necessary  opposition  or  correspondence  in  their  respect- 
ive origins  or  natures,  answering  to  this  rdativeness  of  terms. 
Acute  pain  is  always  the  signal  of  destruction  of  tissue.  If 
our  intensest  pleasures  were  exactly  the  opposite  of  acute  pains, 
those  activities  of  the  system  which  are  constructive  or  recon- 
structive would  be  the  most  delightful,  and  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  respiration  and  digestion,  would  be  our  greatest  physical 
pleasures.  What  they  really  result  in,  is  that  massive  kind  of 
pleasure  called  "feeling  well,"  or  "exhilaration,"  and  the  like, 
opposed  rather  to  the  pains  and  discomforts  of  fatigue,  dys- 
pepsia, ennui,  depression.  The  converse  is  also  true,  thai 
derangement  of  these  functions,  especially  digestion,  produces, 
not  acute  pain,  but  a  general  tone  of  feeling,  accompanying  all 
one's  experience.  Thus  biliousness  produces  despondency, 
dullness,  a  massive  discomfort,  pervading  the  body  and  affect- 
ing the  mind.  That  eccentric  and  brilliant  Divine,  Dr.  S.  H. 
Cox,  declared  that  he  never  had  known  a  triumphant  Christian 
death-bed,  in  a  case  where  the  disease  was  below  the  diaphragm. 


Pleasure  and  Pain.  219 

FEELINGS  OF  THE  DIFFERENT  SENSES. 

A  plain  distinction  exists  between  the  feelings  connected 
with  the  more  ignoble  senses,  taste,  smell,  touch,  muscular 
sensation,  and  sense  of  temperature, — and,  on  the  other  hand, 
those  connected  with  the  senses  of  hearing  and  sight.  The 
difference,  however,  is  no  greater  here  than  with  regard  to  the 
intellectual  content  of  sensations.  We  found  that  smell,  taste, 
and  hearing  give  no  knowledge  of  the  external  world;  that 
smell,  taste,  muscular  sensation  and  sense  of  temperature  can- 
not be  "  inlets  to  the  soul "  in  the  same  way  as  sight,  hearing, 
and  touch.  They  cannot  convey  abstract  thought,  or  fur- 
nish means  of  communication  between  minds. 

Moreover,  since  the  senses  of  sight  and  hearing  are  those 
through  which  the  intellect  is  chiefly  exercised,  in  the  use  of 
language,  the  intellect  necessarily  enters  more  quickly  and  per- 
fectly into  connection  with  their  objects  than  with  those  of  the 
other  senses.  Again,  the  direct  pleasures  of  these  senses  are 
less  intense  and  absorbing,  more  refined,  and  more  dependent 
on  culture  and  attention  than  those  of  the  other  senses. 
"Every  single  fibre  of  the  optic  and  auditory  nerves  seems 
capable  of  differential  stimulation,  and  yields  us  a  distinct 'and 
separate  impression.  Hence,  while  stimulation  and  fatigue 
usually  extend  over  large  tracts  of  the  olfactory  and  gustatory 
systems,  every  single  fibre  of  the  optic  and  auditory  apparatus, 
with  its  connected  center,  is  probably  capable  of  separate 
pleasure  and  separate  fatigue."  The  nerves  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing are  also  capable  of  far  more  rapid  alternations  than  the 
others.  "  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  optic  fibres  and 
terminal  organs  are  repaired,  in  ordinary  cases,  seventeen  times 
per  second,  and  those  of  the  auditory  nerves  thirty-three  times 
per  second."     (Grant  Allen,  op.  cit.,  97-99.) 


The  Feelings. 


IMPORTANCE    OF    SIGHT. 


.These  facts  make  clear  the  intellectual  pre-eminence  of  the 
sense  of  Sight,  show  that  the  intellect  pervades  and  interpene- 
trates our  sensations  of  sight  in  a  peculiar  way.  And  this 
serves  to  confirm  the  view  that  the  sense  of  beauty,  which  is 
almost  exclusively  connected  with  the  sense  of  Sight,  is  en- 
tirely an  intellectual  perception  and  pleasure.  Even  Grant 
Allen  is  obliged  to  admit  that  "  minute  intellectual  discrimina 
tion  is  one  of  the  marks  that  differentiate  the  ^Esthetic  Feel 
ings  from  the  other  pleasures  and  pains." 

There  may  be  particular  experiences  in  which  it  is  difficul 
to  say  whether  sense-pleasure  or  intellectual  pleasure  predom- 
inates. But  this  gives  no  confirmation  to  the  theory  that  all 
our  feelings  are  only  combinations  or  developments  of  the 
feelings  of  sense.  The  feelings  called  social,  intellectual,  sym- 
pathetic, aesthetic,  spiritual,  cannot  be  thus  dissolved  away. 
We  speak  of  the  pain  caused  by  hearing  of  a  friend's  death, 
and  also  of  the  pain  of  a  cut  or  burnt  finger.  But  it  is  plain 
that,  although  both  experiences  can  be  brought  under  our 
general  formula,  as  being  both  depressing  and  injurious  to  life 
in  the  large  sense,  and  he  nee  properly  called  by  the  same 
name  of  pain,  yet  they  have  nothing  in  common  in  their  own 
nature.  Their  resemblance  consists  in  the  fact  that  one  sus- 
tains somewhat  the  same  relation  to  the  social  and  mental  life 
that  the  other  does  to  the  physical  life.  We  speak  of  the 
pleasures  of  eating,  of  hearing  music,  of  seeing  pictures  and 
landscapes,  of  reading  about  noble  deeds,  of  doing  good,  of 
loving  holiness;  but  the  general  resemblance  among  them,  by 
which  we  class  them  all  as  pleasures,  is  far  less  characteristic 
rhan  their  specific  differences. 

The  pain  of  hunger,  the   pain  of  a   burn,  and  the  pain  of 
neuralgia,  have  plainly  a  very  close  resemblance.     The  disa- 


Pleasure  and  Pain.  221 

greeable  feeling  of  a  bad  taste  or  smell,  of  a  discordant  sound, 
of  a  coarse  combination  of  colors,  have  an  evident  resemblance 
to  the  positive  pains  just  mentioned.  But  the  feeling  one  has 
on  witnessing  cruelty,  or  on  being  cheated,  or  on  learning  of  a 
friend's  death,  or  on  seeing  one's  house  in  flames,  all  these 
closely  resemble  one  another,  but  differ  widely  from  the  other 
classes  of  feelings,  and  can  never  be  derived  or  compounded 

out  of  them. 

DIGRESSION  ON  MUSIC. 

We  have  given  the  pleasures  of  sight  far  higher  rank  than 
those  of  hearing.  But  the  art  of  music,  dependent  on  the 
sense  of  hearing,  has  attained  such  a  wonderful  development 
in  recent  times  that  we  take  brief  notice  of  it  here,  as  a  transi- 
tional topic  between  sense-pleasure  and  ^Esthetics. 

The  feeling  of  music  is  by  some  called  an  emotion;  but  it 
does  not  come  within  the  definition  of  emotion  proper.  Nearly 
all  the  peculiar  effects  of  music  are  due  to  association.  An 
exile  in  a  foreign  land  weeps  on  hearing  his  national  air,  though 
it  be  the  liveliest  of  tunes.  The  plaintive  wailing  of  the  bag- 
pipes excites  the  Scot  to  martial  ardor  and  courage.  "  Yankee 
Doodle,"  though  a  British  burlesque,  arouses  no  anger,  and 
though  an  utterly  trivial  air,  excites  no  contempt,  in  any 
American  bosom,  for  long  association  has  made  it  stir- 
ring and  patriotic.  "America"  excites  our  patriotic  ardor 
now,  though  originally  a  Jacobite  air,  composed  to  honor 
the  exiled  tyrant  James.  "The  Marseillaise"  means  noth- 
ing to  us,  to  the  Frenchman  it  is  frenzy.  When  "  pro- 
gram-music" is  played,  those  of  the  audience  who  have  the 
"  program  "  exhibit  feeling  at  the  right  places,  the  others  make 
mistakes.  The  fact  seems  to  be, — Music  excites  the  nerves  in 
ways  having  some  general  correspondence  with  its  style  and 
rhythm.  A  lively  tune,  by  its  rapid  alternations  and  transi- 
tions, causes  a  kind  of  tumult  of  the  nerves,  which  is  associated 
15 


222  The  Feelings. 

with  joy.  A  slow  tune  is  of  course  calming  in  its  effects.  The 
piercing  note  of  a  fife  must  of  course  affect  the  nerves  differ- 
ently from  the  low  notes  of  the  pipe-organ.  But  beyond  these 
things  the  entire  effect  of  music  on  the  feelings  is  due  to  asso- 
ciation and  culture. 

The  simple  pleasure  of  music,  apart  from  specific  feelings 
excited  by  it,  depends  largly  on  rhythm,  which  is  also  impor- 
tant in  poetry,  dancing,  military  evolutions,  gymnastic  exercises, 
and  other  sources  of  pleasure. 

Rhythm  gives  alternation  of  stimulation,  and  hence  short  in- 
tervals of  rest  and  repair  to  the  organs  involved,  and  also  satis- 
fies expectation  on  each  recurrence.  Hence  when  the  move- 
ment is  once  set  up,  its  mere  continuance  causes  pleasure,  and 
its  alteration  or  sudden  discontinuance  gives  a  slight  shock,  like 
a  "  false  step  "  in  dancing  or  marching. 

There  is  here  also,  evidently,  an  intellectual  element,  above 
mere  sense-stimulation,  not  unlike  that  involved  in  contrast  of 
colors.  The  same  principle  is,  moreover,  involved  in  the  pleasure 
given  by  single  musical  tones.  Such  a  tone  is  pleasant  because 
its  sound-waves  recur  with  regularity,  and  is  still  more  pleas- 
ant when  compounded  of  several  tones  or  overtones,  giving  reg- 
ularly recurring  u  beats "  or  interferences  of  air-waves,  as  ex- 
plained by  the  science  of  acoustics.  But  a  single  tone,  how- 
ever sweet,  soon  becomes  tedious  and  unpleasant,  because  so 
few  nerves  are  involved  that  all  soon  become  wearied.  And 
the  higher  intellectual  element  of  contrast,  comparison,  and 
unity,  is  needed  to  constitute  beauty  in  any  true  sense  o£  the 
word. 


ESTHETICS. 


The  science  of  ^Esthetics  treats  of  the  nature  of  beauty, 
the  principles  of  the  fine  arts,  of  criticism,  and  of  taste.  The 
word  is  derived  from  a  Greek  word  meaning  perception,  and 
so  would  be  expected  to  apply  to  all  perception  through  the 
senses.  Kant  did  so  use  it  in  his  "Critik  of  Pure  Reason," 
where  "Transcendental  ^Esthetic"  means  the  metaphysics  of 
sensation.  The  word  is  hence  in  some  respects  an  unfortunate 
one.  Some  recent  writers  have  undertaken  to  reduce  it  to  its 
ancient  or  its  Kantian  meaning,  as  a  help  toward  reducing  all 
feeling  to  sense-feeling.  Thus  Mr.  Grant  Allen,  in  his  work 
already  quoted,  treats  at  full  length'  of  pleasure  and  pain,  and 
endeavors  to  show  "the  purely  physical  origin  of  the  sense  of 
beauty." 

We  must,  then,  guard  against  supposing  that,  the  term, 
though  a  convenient  one,  gives  in  itself  any  explanation  of  the 
feeling  or  idea  of  beauty.  We  are  obliged,  indeed,  after  all, 
to  use  the  phrase  Idea  of.  Beauty  to  denote  the  metaphysical 
side  of  this  mental  product. 

The  word  Beauty  refers  usually  to  Sight  alone  among  the 
senses.  The  objects  of  the  other  senses  are  seldom  called 
beautiful,  and  then  generally  in  a  figurative  way.  Even  in 
music,  some  of  the  most  descriptive  words  applied  to  it  as 
beautiful  are  borrowed  from  sight,  such  as  color,  light  and 
shade.  Comparatively  few  natural  sounds  can  be  called  even 
agreeable,  while  a  vast  variety  of  natural  objects  and  scenes 
are  beautiful  to  the  eye. 


224  The  Feelings. 

beauty  not  sense-pleasure. 

What,  then,  is  the  difference  between  mere  sense-pleasure,  oc- 
casioned by  color,  for  instance,  and  the  feeling  of  beauty? 
We  hold  that  the  difference  lies  in  the  activity  of  the  intellect, 
and  that  in  proportion  as  the  intellect  is  active  in  relation  to 
beauty,  the  feeling  is  elevated  and  pure. 

The  lower  animals  can  enjoy  pleasure  of  the  senses,  even  of 
the  sense  of  sight.  Bright  and  varied  colors  are  agreeable  to 
them.  But  they  have  no  "  Idea  of  Beauty,"  no  Taste,  no 
perception  of  ugliness,  no  feeling  of  beauty. 

The  intellectual  activity  connected  with  beauty  may  be  said 
to  begin  very  low  down  in  the  scale,  with  the  element  of  at- 
tention. Beauty  is  not  obtrusive  upon  the  very  senses,  does 
not  force  itself  on  our  attention,  like  a  cannon  shot  or  a 
strong  odor.  We  are  obliged  to  look  for  it;  we  have  to  give  it 
our  best  attention,  or  we  cannot  recognize  it,  and  then  it  does 
not  exist  for  us. 

A  higher  intellectual  element,  essential  to  real  perception  of 
beauty,  is  found  in  the  power  of  discrimination.  "The  vulgar 
are  pleased  by  great  masses  of  color,  especially  red,  orange, 
and  purple,  which  give  their  coarse  nervous  organizations  the 
requisite  stimulus:  the  refined,  with  nerves  of  less  caliber  but 
greater  discriminativeness,  require  delicate  combinations  of 
complementaries,  and  prefer  neutral  tints  to  the  glare  of  pri- 
mary hues.  Children  and  savages  love  to  dress  in  all  the 
colors  of  the  rainbow."     (Grant  Allen.) 

The  eyes  are  restless  organs;  they  perpetually  adjust  them- 
selves in  various  ways  to  their  objects;  they  are  the  constant 
instrument  of  intellectual  discrimination;  they  minister  con- 
stantly to  this  intellectual  function,  which  affords  a  peculiar  in- 
tellectual delight.  Mr.  Allen  himself  seems  virtually  to  admit 
that  this  is  the  true  explanation,  for  he  says  that  in  the  per- 


^Esthetics.  225 

ception  of  beauty  or  ugliness,  "as  the  emotional  element 
[sense-feeling],  is  weak,  it  [beauty  or  ugliness]  is  mainly  cog- 
nized only  as  an  intellectual  discrimination."     (39-) 

But  there  are  still  higher  intellectual  elements  in  beauty. 
Order,  proportion,  symmetry,  fitness,  are  called  beautiful,  and 
enter,  indeed,  into  nearly  all  beauty;  yet  they  are  purely  intel- 
lectual relations,  not  to  be  attained  by  sensations,  unless  the 
mind  be  present  to  compare  and  abstract  those  sensations. 
Again,  a  geometrical  demonstration  is  often,  and  correctly, 
called  beautiful,  and  so  may  be  an  argument,  legal  or  metaphys- 
ical, a  scientific  experiment,  a  mechanical  invention. 

There  is  also  an  element  which  may  fairly  be  called  ethical, 
sometimes  described  as  "  disinterestedness."  A  beautiful  ob- 
ject may  be  enjoyed  by  many  persons;  there  can  be  no  monop- 
oly of  it.  Lotze  makes  this  the  peculiar  mark  of  aesthetic 
feeling,  that  it  is  "universal,"  it  is  not  exhausted  by  one  indi- 
vidual. "The  objects  of  Fine  Art,  and  all  objects  called  aes- 
thetic, are  exempt  from  the  fatal  taint  of  rivalry  and  contest 
attaching  to  other  agreeables;  they  draw  men  together  in 
mutual  sympathy;  and  are  thus  eminently  social  and  humaniz- 
ing. A  picture  or  a  statue  can  be  seen  by  millions;  a  great 
poem  reaches  all  that  understand ,  its  language;  a  fine  melody 
may  spread  pleasure  over  the  habitable  globe."     (Bain.) 

BEAUTY    INTELLECTUAL. 

But  how  is  beauty  explained  or  accounted  for  by  referring  it 
to  the  intellect?  We  are  here  thrown  back  upon  the  ultimate 
law  or  formula  that  pleasure  or  happiness  results  from  the 
proper  activity  of  our  powers  in  a  right  relation  to  their  ap- 
propriate objects.  It  is  the  natural  function  and  perpetual  ef- 
fort of  intellect  to  discover  unity,  to  reconcile  contradictions, 
to  find  resemblances,  to  classify  under  wider  genera,  to  reduce 
all  things  to  a  few  conceptions  or  to  one;  such  is -the  bound- 
less task  which  the  intellect  sets  itself. 


226  The  Feelings. 

Natural  science  is  the  classification  of  things,  reducing  them 
to  ever  fewer  and  wider  classes,  and  attempting  to  show  their 
relation  to  a  few  forms  or  to  one.  Physical  science  is  the  at- 
tempt to  show  that  all  forces  are  but  forms  of  one  force,  and 
all  kinds  of  matter  but  a  few  original  sorts  or  one  sort.  Mathe- 
matical science  is  the  attempt  to  provide  an  organon  by  which 
this  can  be  done,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  to  unravel  the 
necessary  judgments  contained  in  the  universe,  and  show  them 
related  in  a  system. 

Success,  or  apparent  success,  in  any  part  of  this  endless 
task  gives  intellectual  pleasure.  A  reconciliation  between  two 
apparent  opposites,  a  discovery  of  unknown  resemblances,  a 
new  discrimination,  which  always  involves  resemblance,  is  de- 
lightful. 

When  the  matters  thought  of  are  trifling,  as  the  sound  of 
two  similar  words,  in  the  pun,  we  call  it  a  kind  of  wit,  and  are 
excited  to  a  "sudden  glory  of  laughter." 

When  the  objects  are  of  .different  rank,  as,  one  physical  and 
the  other  moral,  we  have  figures  of  speech,  similes  and  meta- 
phors, always  accounted  beautiful  since  the  dawn  of  poetry. 
When  Homer  compares  a  warrior  to  a  lion  or  a  torrent,  it  is 
the  endless  striving  and  passion  of  the  mind  for  unity  which 
makes  the  simile  beautiful.  And  if,  in  our  day,  these  compari- 
sons have  come  to  seem  trivial,  it  is  because  so  many  more  im- 
portant and  more  perfect  unifications  have  been  made  possible 
in  the  progress  of  knowledge. 

Newton's  identification  of  attraction  in  the  solar  system 
with  gravity  on  the  earth,  is  always  considered  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  demonstrations,  even  by  those  who  have  no  knowl- 
edge of  it  as  a  mathematical  process.  The  more  recent  as- 
similation of  the  stars  and  the  earth,  by  means  of  the  spectro- 
scope, will  always  be  deemed  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  all 
discoveries. 


^Esthetics: 


CONFIRMATIONS. 


i.  It  is  a  strong  confirmation  of  this  theory  that  it  explains 
many  difficulties  which  have  excited  much  discussion.  One 
such  point  is  the  similarity  of  beauty  and  some  kinds  of  wit, 
already  alluded  to,  which  has  been  puzzling  to  some.  The 
theory  helps  also  to  explain  the  beauty  of  symmetry,  the 
having  two  or  more  sides  alike;  although  the  pleasure  which 
this  gives  is  partly  accounted  for,  no  doubt,  by  association, 
since  the  human  body  and  nearly  all  the  higher  animals,  many 
leaves,  etc.,  are  symmetrical.  It  explains,  too,  why  an  ad- 
mirer or  critic  of  beauty  seems  to  feel  within  him  an  ideal,  a 
standard,  which  nevertheless  is  not  a  definite  pattern,  but  an 
idea  of  perfection  in  general,  which  can  never  be  absolutely 
realized.  Imitation,  either  of  a  pattern  or  an  ideal,  in  itself 
gives  us  pleasure.  If  it  is  trivial  we  laugh  at  it;  if  it  is  serious 
and  worthy  we  call  it  beautiful;  if  too  long  continued  it  is 
fatiguing.  Imitation  evidently  exercises  in  a  high  degree  the 
comparing  and  reconciling  activity  of  the  mind.  This  theory 
seems  also  to  explain  why  aesthetic  feeling  is  felt  to  be  unselfish 
and  universal.  When  we  find  in  any  object,  or  interpret  into 
it,  any  congruity,  or  attempt  at  or  tendency  toward  such  con- 
gruity,  with  this  necessary  and  universal  action  of  the  intellect, 
we  receive  aesthetic  pleasure,  and  say  "here  is  something 
beautiful." 

2.  Another  confirmation  of  this  view  is,  that  it  not  only  rises 
naturally  from  sense-phenomena  to  the  grandest  and  widest 
conceptions,  finding  beauty  everywhere,  but  it  can  advance 
higher  still,  to  conduct,  to  moral  relations.  A  beautiful  char- 
acter is  one  which,  among  opposing  temptations,  preserves  a 
rational  consistency,  a  unity  wrought  out  of  variety.  "We  ex- 
.  perience  the  sense  of  beauty  in  witnessing  the  conformity  of 
conduct  to  a  high  standard  of  moral  excellence,  which  excites 


228  The  Feelings. 

in  our  minds  a  pleasure  of  the  same  order  as  that  which  we 
derive  from  the  contemplation  of  a  noble  work  of  Art."  (Dr. 
Carpenter.) 

3.  A  third  confirmation  of  this  theory  is  that  it  explains  the 
phenomenon  called  Ugliness.  This,  though  called  the  opposite 
of  beauty,  does  not  excite  a  painful  feeling,  unless  it  be  in  ab- 
normally sensitive  natures.  Ugliness  may  sometimes  be  the 
expression  of  hateful  moral  qualities,  and  to  this  point  we  shall 
return.  But  to  the  intellect  it  is  the  inharmonious,  the  asym- 
metrical, that  which  cannot  be  reduced  to  unity,  that  which  re- 
sists the  efforts  of  the  mind.  It  gives  the  intellect  a  shock  of 
failure,  of  inability  to  accomplish  its  end,  to  realize  itself, — a 
feeling  of  disappointed  effort.  And,  since  beauty  is  so  general 
in  nature  and  art,  its  absence  gives  a  shock  of  disappointed  ex- 
pectation. But  no  such  contrast  can  be  traced  between  beauty 
and  ugliness  as  between  pleasure  and  pain,  for  ugliness  is  only 
lack  of  beauty,  while  pain  is  a  positive  experience  of  destruc- 
tive action. 

4.  A  fourth  remark  upon  this  view  is  that  it  takes  up  into 
itself  many  partial  views  which  have  proved,  each  by  itself, 
quite  inadequate.  Such  are  the  views  that  beauty  consists  in 
unity,  in  variety,  in  order,  in  fitness  or  adaptation,  in  usefulness, 
in  harmony,  in  rhythm,  in  contrast,  in  curved  lines,  in  expression, 
in  social  convention.  Most  writers  have  assumed  that  there 
must  be  some  one  principle  or  quality  in  which  beauty  con- 
sists; that  every  beautiful  object  must  be  beautiful  for  the  same 
reason.  An  amazing  number  of  theories  have  been  con- 
structed, in  the  attempt  to  discover  and  prove  such  a  principle. 
From  Plato  to  Ruskin,  the  ablest  and  most  ingenious  writers 
have  labored  with  this  problem,  but  hardly  any  two  have  agreed. 
Their  views  may  be  found  in  special  treatises;  we  cannot  make 
room  for  them  here. 

If  our  view  be  correct,  nearly  all  these  theories  contained  a 


^Esthetics.  229 

part  of  the  truth,  while  each  committed  a  fundamental  error 
in  seeking  for  a  single  quality  as  the*  cause  of  all  beauty.  Es- 
thetic feeling  is  rather  an  accompaniment  of  all  felicitous  and 
successful  operation  of  the  mental  powers.  Beauty  is  therefore  in 
the  mind,  just  as  color  is;  the  quality  in  the  object  is  something 
which  evokes  the  creative  activity  of  the  intellect,  from  which 
results  aesthetic  pleasure.  A  large  number  of  such  qualities 
may  thus  awaken  the  intellect,— order,  symmetry,  fitness,  rhythm, 
expression,  etc.;  these  qualities  may  be  moral,  mental,  or  con- 
ventional; these  objects  may  be  abstract  relations,  mathematical 
or  metaphysical.  "  Yet  even  those  writers,"  says  Dr.  T.  Brown 
"  who  would  be  astonished,  if  we  were  to  regard  them  as  capa- 
ble of  any  faith  in  the  universal  a  parte  rei,  believe  in  uni- 
versal beauty  a  parte  ret,  and  inquire  what  it  is  which  consti- 
tutes the  beautiful,  very  much  as  the  scholastic  logicians  in- 
quired into  the  real  essence  of  the  universal."     (II,  60.) 

CONCLUSION. 

We  think  it  is  evident  from  these  higher  discussions,  with- 
out more  formal  proof,  that  beauty  is  something  beyond  mere 
sense-feeling,  and  that  no  theory  of  it  as  a  combination  of 
such  feelings,  can  answer  the  great  philosophical  questions 
which  arise  concerning  it.  There  is  to  be  accounted  for,  not 
only  a  feeling,  but.  also  an  idea;  not  merely  a  correspondence 
between  the  physical  world  and  the  nervous  system,  but  a  cor- 
respondence between  the'  principles  of  the  world  and  those  of 
the  intellect. 

Yet  similar  concessions  and  exceptions  remain  to  be  made, 
with  those  which  we  made  when  speaking  of  Space  and  Time. 
Undoubtedly  much  of  our  perception  of  beauty  is  due  to  as- 
sociation of  ideas,  habit,  culture,  social  convention,  individual 
preference, — out  of  all  which  a  vast  structure  of  aesthetic  Taste 
is  reared.     And  this  accounts  for  the   diversity  of  taste  among 


23° 


The  Feelings. 


different  individuals,  nations,  periods,  and  stages  of  civiliza- 
tion. "  A  landscape  which  bears  a  resemblance  to  the  scene 
of  our  early  youth,  cannot  fail  to  be  felt  as  more  beautiful  by  us 
than  by  others.  The  countenance  of  one  who  is  dear  to  us 
sheds  a  charm  over  similar  features.  An  author  whose  work 
we  have  read  at  an  early  period  with  delight,  continues  for- 
ever to  exercise  no  inconsiderable  dominion  over  our  general 
taste."     (Dr.  T.  Brown.) 

Our  objective  knowledge  of  beauty  in  nature  and  art,  in 
thought  and  character,  is  of  course  derived  from  experience. 
All  our  lives  we  are  imbibing  knowledge  of  the  beautiful,  form- 
ing our  taste,  learning  what  is  considered  beautiful  and  what 
ugly.  But  this  experience  itself  could  not  exist  without  a  pe- 
culiar capacity  in  the  mind,  beyond  mere  perception,  to  cog- 
nize objects  under  such  a  relation.  When  discussing  Space, 
we  found  reason  to  believe,  that  although  an  objective  knowl- 
edge of  space-relations  is  undoubtedly  derived  from  experience, 
yet  that  knowledge  could  not  be  accounted  for  without  suppos- 
ing some  necessity  of  the  mind  to  cognize  external  objects 
under  those  relations.  So  in  this  case,  the  objective  knowl- 
edge of  beauty  through  experience  cannot  be  accounted  for 
without  a  similar  presupposition.  If  we  call  the  one  the  Idea 
of  Space,  we  may  well  call  the  other  the  Idea  of  Beauty. 

EXPRESSION. 

It  is  held  by  some  that  beauty  consists  largely  in  the  ex- 
pression of  character  and  moral  worth.  Kant,  especially, 
made  the  highest  beauty  consist  in  symbolizing  moral  qualities. 
But  beauty  and  expression  are  two  different  things.  Fine 
qualities  of  character,  disposition,  manners,  etc.,  are  beautiful 
in  themselves,  and  so,  in  a  certain  sense,  the  expression  of 
them  is  beautiful.  Moral  and  spiritual  beauty  may  properly 
be  called  higher  in  degree  than  physical  beauty,  but  this  does 


Emotion.  231 

not  prove  that  the  latter  has  its  existence  in  symbolizing  the 
former.  The  following  considerations  seem  to  us  sufficient  to 
prove  the  complete  separation  of  the  two  things. 

1.  Many  of  the  most  beautiful  human  beings  are  depraved 
in  character  and  weak  in  intellect. 

2.  Much  of  this  expressiveness  is  conventional,  and  founded 
on  association. 

3.  At  best,  the  observer  can  only  recognize  those  qualities 
which  he  himself  possesses,  or  is  capable,  through  experience, 
of  appreciating.  A  coarse  savage  is  necessarily  incapable  of 
perceiving  refined  qualities  of  character,  and  hence  of  finding 
beauty  in  their  expression.  Beauty  can  symbolize  the  highest 
moral  qualities  only  to  him  who  has  himself  some  share  of  the 
same  qualities. 


EMOTION. 


We  now  return  from  the  excursion  in  which  we  followed  out 
the  natural  suggestion  of  the  fundamental  elements  of  Pleas- 
ure and  Pain,  and  begin  the  discussion  of  the  specific  kinds  of 
feeling.  According  to  our  plan,  we  begin  with  that  kind  which 
has  most  to  do  with  our  physical  organism. 

The  term  Emotion  is  often  used  in  a  vague  and  wide  sense, 
and  even  applied  to  all  the  Feelings.  But  its  proper  as  well 
as  etymological  meaning  is  restricted  to  those  feelings  which 
presuppose  previous  sensation  or  representation,  being  excited 
by  ideas  of  pleasure  or  pain  in  the  mind,  and  which  "manifest 
their  existence  and  character  by  some  sensible  effect  upon  the 
body."  (Fleming,  Vocab.  of  Phil.)  In  violent  emotion  the 
disturbance  or  tumult  of  the  nervous  system  is  the  most  prom- 


232  The  Feelings. 

inent  fact,  which  is  well  expressed   by  the  old  term,  "com- 
motion." 

The  expression  of  Emotion  by  bodily  movements  is  due  to 
an  excess  of  nervous  excitement,  which,  unable  to  be  dis- 
charged in  other  ways,  overflows  upon  the  motor  nerves,  and 
produces  involuntary  movements. 

REFLEX    MOVEMENTS. 

Indeed,  the  bodily  movements  accompanying  emotion  are  a 
development  of  that  class  of  activities  called  automatic  or  re- 
flex. For  example,  tickling  the  sole  of  the  foot  of  a  sleeping 
person  causes  the  foot  to  be  drawn  up,  without  sensation  or 
volition.  In  the  case  of  a  person  whose  lower  limbs  are  para- 
lyzed, similar  irritation  may  produce  violent  convulsions, 
though  the  patient  cannot  move  his  feet  voluntarily,  and  has 
no  sensation  in  them.  So,  a  very  slight  irritation  of  the  end 
of  a  nerve,  by  a  sliver  of  glass  or  a  filing  of  iron,  has  been 
known  to  cause  convulsions  out  of  all  proportion  with  the  im- 
portance of  the  cause;  "  and  a  trifling  injury  may  in  this  way 
end  in  tetanus  or  lock-jaw."  "Strychnia  so  affects  the  nerves 
that,  on  the  occasion  of  the  slightest  stimulus,  they  react  in 
convulsive  activity."     (Maudsley.) 

In  a  similar  way,  when  an  idea  is  fitted  to  produce  emotion, 
it  may  result  in  bodily  movements  having  no  relation  to  the 
importance  of  the  idea,  but  to  the  peculiar  condition  of  the 
mind  and  nervous  system,  and  various  mental  and  physical 
relations.  "To  all  appearances  a  violent  emotion  may  act 
sometimes  in  the  same  way  as  a  strong  physical  shock  to  the 
nervous  system,  for  it  may  produce  in  some  instances  convul- 
sions, fainting,  loss  of  sensation,  paralysis  of  movement,  deaf- 
ness; exactly  the  effects  which  a  strong  electric  shock  may 
produce."     (Maudsley,  Physiology  of  Mind,  350.) 

A  piece  of  news  which  is  of  no  importance  to  one  person, 


Emotion.  .  233 

may  give  a  severe  shock  to  another,  and  this,  in  a  person  of 
particularly  sensitive  organization,  may  find  expression  in- 
screams,  contortions,  or  even  suspension  of  the  action  of  the 
heart.  A  "  ticklish  "  child  laughs  when  the  idea  of  tickling  is 
excited  by  pointing  the  finger  at  him.  The  mere  recollection 
of  a  funny  scene  often  produces  laughter,  and  the  memory  of 
a  danger  escaped  often  causes  a  shudder  or  a  start. 

SPENCER    AND    DARWIN. 

The  ordinary  expression  of  emotion,  however,  is  by  the 
muscles  of  the  face.  Physiologists  explain  this  by  a  "  wave  of 
nervous  energy"  contracting  many  muscles  at  once,  a  "dif- 
fused nervous  discharge"  which,  says  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  ex- 
cites, first,  "the  small  muscles  attached  to  the  easily  moved 
parts,  such  as  the  face,  afterwards  more  numerous  and  larger 
muscles  moving  heavier  parts,  and  eventually  the  whole  body." 
Mr.  Darwin  investigated  the  expression  of  emotion,  both  in 
man  and  in  the  lower  animals,  with  his  accustomed  thorough- 
ness and  ability.  We  cannot  make  room  for  an  extended 
view  of  his  theories,  and  anything  briefer  could  not  do  them 
justice. 

Emotion  is  as  fatiguing  to  the  system  as  voluntary  exertion. 
Fear,  grief,  sorrow,  anger,  exhaust  the  vital  force,  the  nerv- 
ous energy.  And,  if  the  expression  of  emotion  is  suppressed, 
it  may  exert  a  depressing  influence  equivalent  to  the  shock  of 
a  violent  emotion.  Those  who  conceal  their  griefs  and  show 
no  outward  signs  of  sorrow,  are  more  likely  to  "  die  of  a 
broken  heart"  than  those  who  express  emotion  by  violent 
gestures  and  loud  cries. 

The  physical  expression  of  emotion  is  by  some  considered 
an  essential  part  of  it,  without  which  it  is  called  "  suppressed 
emotion."'  In  ordinary  language,  however,  the  emotion  and 
its  expression  are  quite  different  things,  the  one  a  feeling,  a 


234 


The  Feelings. 


psychical  experience,  the  other  a  movement,  a  physical  ex- 
perience. Consciousness  testifies  that  feelings  usually  ex- 
pressed in  this  way  may  be  entirely  suppressed,  so  far  as 
physical  movement  goes,  and  yet  the  experience,  of  fear, 
anger,  or  other  feeling,  continues  in  the  mind. 

EXPERIMENTS    AND    THEORIES. 

This  remarkable  distinctness  and  yet  connection  between 
emotion  and  its  expression  has  led  to  some  curious  theories 
and  experiments.  It  is  said  to  be  a  common  experience  of 
actors,- that  when  they  imitate  the  conventional  expression  of 
any  emotion,  they  experience  the  emotion  itself,  the  feeling  in  - 
the  mind.  Edmund  Burke  said  that  he  had  successfully  tried 
the  experiment.  "  I  have  remarked  that  on  mimicking  the 
looks  and  gestures  of  angry,  or  placid,  or  frightened,  or  daring 
men,  I  have  involuntarily  found  my  mind  turned  to  that  pas- 
sion* whose  appearance  I  endeavored  to  imitate."  A  theory 
has  hence  been  formed  that  the  bodily  changes  come  first,  and 
the  feeling  is  a  result  of  them,  that  emotion  is  "  a  feeling  of 
the  bodily  changes  as  they  occur." 

"What  kind  of  an.  emotion  of  fear  would  be  left,"  says 
Professor  W.  James,  "  if  the  feelings  neither  of  quickened 
heart-beats  nor  of  shallow  breathing,  neither  of  trembling  lips 
nor  of  weakened  limbs,  neither  of  goose-flesh  nor  of  visceral 
stirrings  were  present,  it  is  quite  impossible  to  think.  Can 
any  one  fancy  the  state  of  rage  and  picture  no  ebullition  of  it 
in  the  chest,  no  flushing  of  the  face,  no  dilatation  of  the  nos- 
trils, no  clenching  of  the  teeth,  no  impulse  to  vigorous  action, 
but  in  their  stead  limp  muscles,' calm  breathing,  and  a  placid 
face?"  "In  rage,  it  is  notorious  how  we  'work  ourselves  up' 
to  a  climax  by  repeated  outbreaks  of  expression.  Refuse  to 
express  a  passion,  and  it  dies.  Count  ten  before  venting  your 
anger,  and  its  occasion  seems  ridiculous."  ("  Mind"  for  April, 
1884.) 


Emotion.  235 

However  useful  the  practical  suggestions  which  can  be 
drawn  from  this  view,  it  is  contradicted  by  observation  and  by 
consciousness.  "  The  motor  expressions  of  the  emotions  are 
really  the  movements  which  would  be  manifested  in  greater 

degree  if  the  emotions  were  realized  in  action 

In  the  desire  for  revenge  [rather  in  rage],  the  gratification  of 
which  is  to  injure  the  offender,  the  natural  weapons  of  offence 
are  put  in  action,  animals  ejecting  their  poison,  thrusting  out 
their  stings,  attempting  to  tear,  bite,  or  kick,  and  man,  clench- 
ing his  fist,  stamping  his  feet  and  gnashing  his  teeth,  as  he 
would  do  if  he  were  actually  taking  his  revenge.  In  terror, 
the  satisfaction  of  which  is  the  averting  of  a  great  impending 
danger,  the  struggles  for  preservation  are  seen  in  the  starting 
back,  the  shrinking,  the  sudden  standing  still,  and  the  open 
mouth  by  which  a  deep  inspiration  is  taken  in  order  to  pre- 
pare for  exertion."     (Maudsley,  Physiology  of  Mind,  379-) 

Such  facts  show  that  the  expression  of  emotion,  though 
nearly  always  associated  with  the  mental  experience,  is  a  con- 
sequence, and  not,  in  normal  cases,  an  antecedent  of  it.  And 
evidently,  in  any  experiment  like  that  of  Burke,  the  idea  of  the 
particular  emotion  which  is  to  be  produced  must  already  be  in 
the  mind  at  the  beginning  of  the  experiment.  It  is  true  that 
hypnotized  persons  or  somnambulists,  when  put  into  the  posture 
of  prayer,  for  example,  or  of  fighting,  sometimes  display  the 
appropriate  feeling  in  their  words  and  actions.  But  it  is-  quite 
possible  in  such  cases  that  the  posture  suggests  the  feeling  by 
association  of  ideas,  instead  of  causing  the  emotion  directly. 

We  are  often  directly  conscious  that  the  mental  part  of  an 
emotion  comes  first.  ,  For  example,  when  a  joke  is  heard  we 
know  that  we  do  not  experience  the  feeling  of  the  ludicrous 
because  the  joke  causes  the  peculiar  muscular  convulsions 
called  laughter.  Or,  if  I  am  afraid  of  a  snarling  dog,  I  know 
that  my  fear  is  not  the  consequence  of  running  away,  but  of 


236  The  Feelings. 

the  idea  of  a  bite,  and  the  conception  of  pain,  associated  in  my 
mind  with  a  snarl,  and  this  psychical  experience  leads  to  the 
physical  movements. 

Emotion  varies  according  to  the  nature  of  the  exciting  idea, 
and  according  to  the  circumstances  and  character  of  the  person 
experiencing  it.  Each  such  variation  might  be  called  a  class 
of  Emotions.  Obviously,  if  all  the  ways  in  which  different 
ideas  can  arouse  feelings  that  manifest  themselves  in  expression 
or  gesture  should  be  enumerated,  the  list  would  be  a  long  one. 
We  shall  discuss  only  the  principal  kinds  of  Emotion,  but  in 
doing  so  we  shall  find  that  many  others,  usually  distinguished, 
can  be  grouped  around  these.  We  begin  with  Fear  because  it 
has  the  best  known  and  most  strongly  marked  physical  effects. 

FEAR. 

The  Emotion  of  Fear  is  aroused  by  the  idea  of  pain  as  about 
to  affect  one.  Its  typical  expression  is  seen  in  a  cur,  which, 
at  sight  of  a  whip  in  his  master's  hand,  puts  his  tail  between 
his  legs,  and  crouches  whining  to  the  ground.  In  man  its 
bodily  effects  are  progressive  in  intensity.  Turning  pale  and 
trembling  are  among  the  first,  then  weakening  at  the  knees, 
cold  sweat,  shortness  of  breath,  goose-flesh,  and  motions  of  the 
viscera,  culminating  in  complete  paralysis,  so  that  the  victim 
is  unable  either  to  run  away  or  defend  himself.  In  this  ex- 
treme form  the  emotion  is  called  Terror,  and  may  be  found 
also  in  the  lower  animals,  where  the  "  charming  "  of  birds  by 
serpents  is  an  instance  of  fear-paralysis. 

An  element  of  pain  obviously  runs  through  the  experience 
called  Fear,  in  all  its  forms,  and  this  pain  is  sometimes  almost 
or  quite  equal  to  the  pain  which  is  dreaded.  Yet  this  pain  has 
a  preservative  function,  as  inciting  attempts  to  escape. 

What  we  have  thus  far  said  applies  to  fear  of  physical  injury. 
Apprehension  of  social  or, mental  or  remotely  future   ills,  is 


Emotion.  237 

rightly  classed  under  Fear,  though  the  expression  in  the  face  is 
far  less  strongly  marked,  and  is  called  Melancholy,  or  Anxiety. 
Various  other  terms  are  employed  to  denote  different  kinds  of 
fear,  as  modified  by  circumstances  or  by  combination  with 
other  feelings,  such  as,  Anxiety,  Terror,  Dread,  Suspicion,  Awe, 
Distrust,  Timidity,  Diffidence,  etc.  Detailed  distinctions  be- 
tween them  would  be  aside  from  our  present  purpose. 

ANGER. 

Defensive  Emotion,  in  its  most  usual  form,  is  called  Anger. 
It  is  aroused  by  the  smart  of  actual  pain,  or  by  the  apprehen- 
sion of  pain  as  about  to  be  inflicted  by  some  agent.  Obviously 
the  same  idea  of  future  pain  may  excite  either  fear  or  anger, 
according  as  the  "  noxious  agent  "  is  overwhelming  in  power, 
or  not,  and  according  to  the  power,  character,  and  feelings  of 
the  person  experiencing  the  emotion.  The  specific  difference 
between  fear  and  anger  is,  that  in  the  former,  attention  is  fixed 
upon  the  pain,  in  the  latter  upon  the  agent  that  causes  the 
pain.  While  fear  prompts  to  escape,  anger  prompts  to  de- 
fense, at  first,  and  afterwards  to  retaliation.  The  expression  of 
anger  is  in  general  the  opposite  of  that  of  fear;  the  latter  is  de- 
pressing in  its  effect  on  the  organism,  the  former  exciting. 
Many  animals,  of  various  species,  erect  their  hair  or  feathers 
and  arch  their  backs  or  expand  their  wings,  when  angry,  so  as 
to  appear  larger  and  more  terrible  to  their  enemies.  (See 
Darwin.) 

The  signs  of  anger   are  a  general   nervous  excitement,    a 

flushed  face,  labored  respiration,  trembling,  change  of  voice, 

etc.     If  the  excitement  proceeds  without  restraint,  it  usually 

terminates  in  violent  movements,   which  relieve  the  nervous 

tension.     "  The  gestures  of  a  man  in  this  state,"  says  Darwin, 

M  usually  differ  from  the  purposeless  writhings  and  struggles  of 

one  suffering  from  an  agony  of  pain;  for  they  represent  more 

or  less  plainly  the  act  of  striking  or  fighting  with  an  enemy." 
16 


238  The  Feelings. 

The  first  shock  of  anger  is  painful  and  exhausting,  but  the 
accomplishment  of  its  purpose  gives  pleasure;  the  immediate 
discharge  gives  a  kind  of  relief;  and  the  averting  of  danger 
gives  relief  from  fear,  as  well  as  the  pleasure  of  self-assertion; 
the  prevention  of  future  attacks,  through  destruction  of  the 
"  noxious  agent  "  or  fear  excited  in  him,  also  yields  satisfaction. 

The  extreme  form  of  anger  is  called  Rage,  or  Frenzy.  When 
the  immediate  manifestation  is  suppressed  or  unsuccessful,  yet 
the  feelings  continue  excited  toward  the  same  object,  this 
lengthened  feeling  is  called  Hatred,  and  its  gratification  is 
called  Revenge.  Here  emotion  is  no  longer  pure,  but  pur- 
posive actions  are  planned  and  performed  for  the  gratification 
of  malevolent  feeling.  Accordingly,  Hatred  is  usually  treated 
of  as  an  Affection,  the  opposite  of  Love.  But  as  love,  in  its 
lowest  form,  is  the  expression  of  physical  relations,  so  hatred 
begins  with  anger.  Many  names  are  given  to  different  kinds 
and  degrees  of  defensive  feeling,  in  various  relations  of  life, 
and  in  various  combinations  with  other  feelings,  as, — Animos- 
ity, Antipathy,  Hostility,  Hatred,  Aversion,  Abhorrence,  Dis- 
like, Resentment,  Malice,  Spite,  Vindictiveness,  etc. 

GRIEF  AND  JOY. 

These  approach  more  nearly  than  any  other  emotions  to 
pure  pleasure  and  pain.  Grief  and  Joy  are  feelings  excited  by 
important  events  affecting  one's  self;  when  we  grieve  or  rejoice 
with  others,  this  is  called  sympathetic  erqotion.  We  experience 
grief  for  the  loss  of  a  friend,  a  child,  a  fortune, — not  for  a 
stranger  or  a  penny;  it  usually  implies  frustrated  or  disap- 
pointed affection  for  a  sentient  object.  A  good  illustration 
of  grief  is  a  dog  at  his  master's  grave,  howling  and  refusing 
food.  David's  lament  for  Absalom  is  a  remarkable  literary 
expression  of  grief. 

Joy  is  typically  expressed  by  the  dog  that  wags  his  tail  and 
licks  his  master's  hand,  and  gambols  about  him.     The  evolu- 


Emotion.  239 

tionists  have  not  yet  clearly  explained  why  a  very  similar  action 
of  the  tail  expresses  almost  contrary  emotions  in  the  lion  and 
in  the  dog.  Various  degrees  of  grief,  under  varying  circum- 
stances, are  called  Melancholy,  Regret,  Sorrow,  Distress, 
Affliction,  Woe,  Misery,  Tribulation,  etc.  Many  different 
names  are  also  applied  to  varieties  of  joy. 

EXPECTATION,  WONDER,  ETC. 

Several  other  feelings  might  well  be  described  as  Emotions, 
but  are  for  the  most  part  complicated  with  other  mental  expe- 
riences, and  of  little  psychological  importance.  We  give  an 
example  or  two  of  the  way  in  which  they  can  easily  be  analyzed. 

Expectation  has  a  characteristic  bodily  expression,  well  illus- 
trated in  a  cat  watching  for  a  mouse.  It  is  the  feeling  aroused 
by  some  event  as  about  to  happen.  But  evidently  it  is  in  itself 
only  an  intense  attention.  The  nerve-force  is  loaded  up,  as  it 
were,  and  waiting  for  a  definite  perception  to  pull  the  trigger 
and  discharge  its  force  in  activity.  If  the  expected  event  is 
disagreeable,  as  when  the  mouse  is  expecting  the  cat,  appre- 
hension, or  fear,  is  the  name  usually  given  to  this  feeling. 
When  the  object  is  remote  and  agreeable,  and  a  mental  or  so- 
cial rather  than  a  physical  event,  the  feeling  is  called  hope. 
On  Expectant  Attention  see  page  66. 

Wonder  is  the  vague  pleasure  associated  with  that  which  is 
new  and  great,  extraordinary,  and  not  well  understood.  A  low 
form  of  this  feeling,  common  to  some  of  the  lower  animals,  is 
called  curiosity.  It  also  receives  other  names  when  compli- 
cated with  other  experiences,  as, — Astonishment,  Surprise, 
Admiration,  Awe,  Amazement,  Marveling,  etc.  The  bodily 
expressions  of  all  these  are  very  much  alike, — an  erect  posture, 
eyes  distended,  mouth  generally  open.  Shakespeare  says,  "  I 
saw  a  smith  stand  with  open  mouth,  swallowing  a  tailor's  news." 
Mr.  Darwin  accounts  for  the  open  mouth  by  unconscious 
preparation  for  great  exertion  by  a  full  inspiration. 


240  The  Feelings. 

^* 
Wonder  lies  at  the  basis  of  natural  religious  feeling.  Prim- 
itive man,  beginning  to  reflect  on  the  vast  forces  and  inexpli- 
cable phenomena  of  nature,  is  at  first  overwhelmed  with  wonder, 
then  seeks  a  cause  for  these  things,  and  readily  turns  toward  a 
supernatural  cause. 

LAUGHTER  AND  THE  LUDICROUS. 

Laughter  is  a  peculiar  convulsion,  affecting  chiefly  the  mus- 
cles of  respiration,  but  sometimes  spreading  to  all  parts  of  the 
body.  It  may  have  a  purely  physical  cause,  as  hysteria,  or 
tickling.  According  to  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  laughter  is  the 
expression  of  a  general  excitement  of  the  nerves.  "An  over- 
flow of  nerve-force,  undirected  by  any  motive,  will  take  first 
the  most  habitual  routes.  It  is  through  the  organs  of  speech 
that  feeling  passes  into  movement  with  the  greatest  frequency. 
.  .  .  .  Hence  certain  muscles  round  the  mouth,  small  and 
easy  to  move,  are  the  first  to  contract  under  pleasurable  emo- 
tion." The  respiratory  muscles  are  also  in  constant  use,  and 
so  emotion  next  "  convulses  not  only  certain  of  the  articulatory 
and  vocal  muscles,  but  also  those  which  expel  air  from  the 
lungs." 

Laughter,  it  is  important  to  notice,  is  not  necessarily  con- 
nected with  the  Ludicrous.  It  may  arise,  besides  physical 
irritations,  from  joy,  gladness,  any  sudden  access  of  mental 
pleasure.  The  lower  animals  cannot  laugh,  though  they  seem 
to  be  capable,  in  some  cases,  of  joining  in  the  merriment  of 
their  masters.  On  the  other  hand,  the  perception  of  the 
ludicrous,  may  or  may  not  excite  laughter. 

THE  comic." 

The  cause  of  the  Emotion  of  the  Ludicrous,  or  the  Comic, 
as  a  mental  feeling,  has  been  the  subject  of  much  dispute 
among  philosophers,  from  Aristotle  down.  As  in  the  case  of 
beauty,  it  has  generally  been  assumed  that  there  must  be  some 


Emotion.  241 

one  objective  quality  belonging  to  every  comic  thing  or  event. 
Most  writers  have  fixed  upon  Incongruity  as  this  quality. 

In  the  celebrated  theory  of  Hobbes,  "  Laughter  is  a  sudden 
glory,  arising  from  sudden  conception  of  some  eminency  in 
ourselves,  by  comparison  with  the  infirmity  of  others,  or  with 
our  own  formerly."  But  this  misses  the  point,  and  confounds 
the  laugh  or  chuckle  of  coarse  self-conceit,  with  perception  of 
the  comic. 

Bain  says  the  occasion  of  the  Ludicrous  is  the  degradation 
of  some  person  or  interest  possessing  dignity,  and  refers  the 
pleasure  of  degrading  things  thus  to  the  sentiment  of  Power 
and  the  release  from  a  state  of  constraint.  But  this  is  to  deny 
and  explain  away  the  idea  of  the  comic  as  completely  as  did 
Hobbes.  Both  these  explanations  depend  upon  incongruity, 
but  do  not  attempt  to  explain  its  comic  quality. 

Spencer  has  proceeded  a  step  further,  remarking  that  the  in- 
congruity must  be  descending,  because  serious  thought  or  per- 
ception requires  more  nerve-force  than  trivial  thought,  and  a 
trivial  incident,  suddenly  intervening,  sets  free  a  large  part  of 
the  force  which  is  being  expended,  so  that  it  finds  a  way  of 
discharge  in  laughter.  This  explains  the  outward  explosion  of 
laughter  in  a  large  class  of  cases,  but  it  goes  no  further.  For 
a  case  of  descending  incongruity  may  be  comic  to  some  per- 
sons and  tragic  to  others. 

Bain's  principal  illustration  of  the  ludicrous  is  the  case  of  a 
pompous,  finely  dressed  man,  who  falls  into  a  muddy  ditch. 
Nearly  all  the  spectators  of  such  a  scene  would  laugh,  and 
some  of  them  undoubtedly  would  laugh  with  a  spice  of  malice, 
of  triumph,  on  account  of  the  victim's  pomposity,  which 
would  seem  to  them  to  deserve  a  fall.  Now,  suppose  that  the 
victim  were  falling  over  a  precipice  a  thousand  feet  high ; 
hardly  any  one,  even  his  bitterest  enemy,  would  be  malicious 
enough  to  laugh.     Or  suppose  it  is  a  helpless  little  child  that 


242  The  Feelings. 

falls  into  the  mud,  however  finely  dressed  it  may  be,  hardly 
any  one  would  laugh.  These  incidents  would  be  tragic,  not 
comic.  Or,  in  the  first  example  given,  the  victim's  wife  and 
daughter,  if  they  were  to  see  him  fall  into  the  mud,  would  be 
far  from  laughter,  would  rather  be  filled  with  sympathy,  pity, 
and  helpfulness.  Or,  the  tailor,  who  had  not  been  paid  for 
the  fine  clothes  thus  ruined,  may  be  supposed  to  be  filled  with 
despair  and  grief.  To  these  persons  the  incident  is  tragic,  to 
the  others  comic. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  see  that  simple  incongruity  is  not  a 
sufficient  explanation  of  the  comic.  Different  writers  place 
the  incongruity  at  different  points,  scarcely  any  two  agree,  and 
few  seem  to  be  aware  that  the  point  needing  explanation  is 
how  incongruity  can  give  pleasure.  It  would  seem  that  incon- 
gruity should  give  pain,  and  we  find  that  in  tragic  scenes  it 
does  do  so ;  and  we  also  found,  when  discussing  ^Esthetics, 
that  the  solution,  the  reconciliation,  of  an  incongruity,  gives 
pleasure,  as  being  a  successful  exercise  of  high  intellectual 
power. 

When  we  witness  the  woes  of  an  CEdipus  or  a  Lear,  on  the 
stage,  the  incongruity  between  their  sufferings  and  their  merits 
gives  us  pain ;  we  weep  that  such  things  can  be;  we  abandon 
ourselves  for  the  moment  to  the  belief  that  there  is  no  rem- 
edy, no  alleviation,  that  the  universe  is  full  of  suffering.  It  is 
an  outburst  of  pessimistic  feeling.  Shakespeare  felt  this,  and 
made  his  Hamlet  utter  it  freely.  To  him  the  world  seems  out 
of  joint.  He  is  the  embodiment  of  the  tragic,  pessimistic, 
painful,  feeling  of  incongruity. 

The  feeling  of  the  Comic,  on  the  contrary,  is  an  outburst  of 
the  unconscious  optimism  of  the  soul,  in  view  of  incongruities 
which  seem  trifling,  or  temporary,  or  partial, — not  eternal,  or 
universal.  The  comic  woes  of  a  Davus  or  a  Sganarelle  amuse 
us,  partly  because  they  are  deserved,  partly  because  they  hap- 


Emotion.  243 

pen  to  a  degraded  person  of  no  importance,  and  also  because 
they  are  comparatively  trifling.  The  incongruity  is  reconciled 
by  the  feeling,  while  in  the  perception  of  beauty  it  is  reconciled 
by  the  intellect;  and  in  tragedy  it  is  not  reconciled  at  all.  If 
the  man  who  falls  into  the  mud  is  seriously  hurt,  the  specta- 
tors cease  laughing  and  crowd  around  with  apologies  and  of- 
fers of  assistance. 

The  perception  of  the  comic  will  of  course  vary  with  the 
character  and  culture  of  the  person  experiencing  it.  A  coarse 
person  laughs  only  at  coarse  jokes.  His  merriment  is  unre- 
strained, and  often  mixed  with  malice,  even  though  the  victim 
of  his  joke  suffers  great  pain.  A  gentleman  or  lady  sees  noth- 
ing comic  in  such  a  scene,  but  laughs  at  a  play  upon  words  or 
a  witticism,  which  the  coarse  man  would  not  even  understand. 

It  is  important  to  notice  that  the  comic  is  usually  mixed 
with  other  elements,  which  few  writers  are  at  pains  to  separate. 
In  coarse  laughter  the  element  of  "  glorying  "  or  boasting,  the 
self-feeling,  on  which  Hobbes  based  his  whole  theory,  is  usually 
prominent,  and  a  spice  of  malice  is  often  perceptible.  In  sar- 
casm, and  sneering,  and  "  sardonic  grins,"  there  is  a  dash  of 
hatred,  plainly  visible,  and  a  good  deal  of  self-conceit.  It  im- 
plies the  Carlylean  dogma,  that  nearly  all  men  are  fools,  ex- 
cept the  speaker. 

Humor  is  the  purest  expression  of  the  comic;  it  is  sheer  in- 
congruity, without  an  after  thought  as  to  the  serious  nature  of 
life.  Wit  is  biting,  it  lays  hold,  it  has  claws;  it  is  on  the  bor- 
ders of  the  tragic  on  one  side  and  the  beautiful  on  the  other; 
it  has  a  purpose  to  accomplish;  it  often  brings  congruity  out  of 
incongruity;  it  often,  in  the  gayest  manner,  causes  pain. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  ancient  Greeks,  especially  Aristo- 
phanes and  Lucian,  exploited  almost  every  kind  and  combina- 
tion of  the  comic,  and  left  very  little  for  the  moderns  to  in- 
vent in  this  kind  of  literature. 


APPETITE. 


Returning  from  the  excursion  suggested  by  the  emotion  of 
Laughter,  and  pursuing  our  usual  plan,  we  begin  again  with 
the  feeling  called  Appetite.  Those  physical  cravings  which 
demand  what  is  necessary  for  the  continuance  of  the  organism, 
are  usually  called  Appetites.  They  are  such  as  Hunger,  Thirst, 
Craving  for  air,  Longing  for  exercise,  Desire  to  sleep.  It  is 
usual  to  add  Sexual  feeling  to  the  list.  These  cravings,  in 
their  primitive,  coarse,  strictly  physical  form,  belong  to  the 
organism  alone,  are  common  to  man  and  the  lower  animals, 
and  are  not  properly  termed  feelings. 

Some  recent  writers  advocate  the  view  that  we  desire  food, 
for  example,  on  account  of  the  pleasure  we  have  in  eating  it, 
and  the  satisfaction  we  feel  after  having  filled  ourselves.  But  we 
hold  that  this  is  true  only  of  the  developed,  cultivated,  or  artifi- 
cial appetites.  The  desire  of  sleep,  for  instance,  is  obviously  a 
purely  physical,  involuntary  craving.  Hunger,  too,  must  be 
an  automatic  craving  on  the  first  occasion  in  one's  life,  before 
the  pleasure  of  eating  has  been  experienced.  Moreover,  in 
the  grossest  examples  of  desire  of  food,  as  in  swine,  we  find 
animals  eating  everything  eatable,  without  distinction,  and 
without  apparent  pleasure. 

Appetite,  in  its  developed,  artificial  form,  becomes  worthy 
the  name,  of  Feeling,  and  important  for  the  social  and  mental 
life.  Yet  in  its  utmost  refinement  it  is  necessarily  a  self-regard- 
ing principle,  openly  based  on  physical  sensations,  and  ranks 
the  lowest  among  springs  of  action  or  motives. 

Appetite  may  be  defined    as    Desire   of  physical   pleasure. 


Appetite.  245 

"By  repeated  indulgence  the  appetites  become  more  fre- 
quent and  imperious  in  their  demands.  Strange  and  artificial 
means  are  employed  to  gratify  them;  and,  by  the  growing 
power  of  habit,  a  man  may  not  only  become  addicted  to  the 
gross  and  frequent  indulgence  of  his  implanted  appetites,  but 
may  raise  up  within  him  a  host  of  factitious  wants.  .  .  . 
The  effect  of  Association,  too,  is  strikingly  seen  in  the  choice 
and  use  of  articles  which  are  selected  to  gratify  our  appetites. 
Different  kinds  of  meat  and  drink  are  relished,  at  different 
periods  of  life,  by  different  classes  of  society,  and  by  the  inhab- 
itants of  different  countries.  In  all  this  the  influence  of  fash- 
ion and  custom  is  powerfully  exhibited."  (Fleming,  Moral 
Philosophy,  60.) 

Each  nation  has  its  favorite  dishes,  its  favorite  stimulants, 
and  its  favorite  narcotics.  The  organism  becomes  habituated 
to  tobacco,  opium,  alcohol,  and  other  }*Dwerful  drugs,  which 
modify  the  nutrition  of  the  nervous  system,  and  the  craving 
for  them  becomes  a  desire  for  excitement  or  for  relief  from  de- 
pression and  uneasiness.  Thus  the  natural  appetite  called 
thirst  has  a  monstrous  development  in  the  habit  of  the  super- 
fluous and  useless  or  injurious  consumption  of  stimulating 
liquors,  ending  in  the  vice  of  drunkenness.  In  this  develop- 
ment the  appetite  becomes  quite  perverted,  and  the  craving  is 
for  the  abnormal  state  of  the  nervous  system,  caused  by  the 
liquor,  not  for  the  liquor  itself.  Thus  also  hunger  is  turned 
into  a  vice,  called  gluttony. 

"  A  life  of  pleasure  "  hence  means,  not  merely  devotion  to 
sense-pleasure,  but  to  all  kinds  of  excitements,  gambling,  gay 
company,  and  various  distractions;  a  life  excluding  the  high- 
est pleasures,  void  of  the  best  feeling. 


DESIRE. 


The  term  Desire  is  in  universal  use  in  English  to  denote  an 
appetency  or  craving  one  step  higher  than  Appetite.  Desire  is 
to  the  mind  what  Appetite  is  to  the  body.  Both  are  self-re- 
garding feelings,  but,  while  appetite  craves  pleasure  of  the 
senses,  desire  craves  objects  which  give  pleasure,  and  that, 
usually,  of  a  higher  kind.  And,  while  appetite  develops  into 
love  of  excitement,  desire  develops  into  love  of  abstract  things, 
such  as  knowledge,  power,  glory. 

The  principle  of  desire  is  the  pleasure  of  possession.  To 
have  a  thing  for  one's  Own  is  a  pleasure  above  the  gratification 
of  appetite,  and  which  is  probably  not  shared  by  the  lower  ani- 
mals. In  the  usual  division,  the  specific  kinds  of  desire  are 
feelings  having  reference  to  things  which  can  in  some  sense  be 
possessed,  such  as,  Desire  of  Property,  of  Power,  of  Glory,  of 
Knowledge,  etc. 

It  is  obvious  that  a  somewhat  long  list  of  the  Desires  could 
be  made  out  by  subdividing  and  enumerating  the  various  ob- 
jects of  human  longing,  such  as,  desire  of  continued  existence, 
of  Society,  of  Liberty,  of  Happiness,  etc.  But,  in  our  view, 
the  important  objects  of  desire  may  be  classified  under  a  few 
general  heads,  and  other  feelings  which  receive  this  name  are 
compounded  of  a  variety  of  experiences. 

Desire  of  Happiness,  for  example,  should  not  have  a  place 
on  the  list.  Happiness  is  not  something  which  can  be  pos- 
sessed, but  a  state,  the  result  of  possessing  objects  of  desire. 
Or,  if  the  term,  Happiness,  be  used  to  denote  something  which 
can  be   possessed  and  desired,  then  the  desire  of  happiness 


Desire.  247 

must  be  a  generic  one,  including  all  the  others,  and  equiva- 
lent to  desire  at  large. 

Desire  of  Continued  Existence,  is  a  term  used  by  President 
Hopkins,  in  the  sense  of  repugnance  to  death  or  suicide.  But 
we  cannot  find  here  the  element  of  possession,  common  to 
other  desires.  Fear  of  pain  and  change,  with  aversion  to  the 
cessation  of  pleasure,  seem  sufficient  to  account  for  this  feel- 
ing. For  it  is  notorious  that  when  all  the  pleasures  of  life  are 
withdrawn,  existence  becomes  a  burden  to  many,  and  love  of 
life  is  not  sufficient  to  deter  them  from  suicide. 

Similarly  with  the  desire  of  Society.  Society  is  the  natural 
state  of  man,  and  when  thrown  out  of  it  by  any  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances he  seriously  feels  the  deprivation.  But  Society  is 
the  condition  which  renders  possible  the  exercise  of  all  the 
desires,  and  which  in  turn  is  sustained  by  their  normal  activity. 
Thus,  although  desire  is  self-regarding,  it  becomes  the  instru- 
ment in  great  degree  of  moral  and  social  development,  and  so 
a  link  between  the  Appetites  and  the  Affections. 

Without  the  Desire  of  Property,  for  example,  in  its  members, 
Society  could  hardly  exist,  certainly  not  be  progressive.  Those 
Socialists  who  endeavor  to  put  a  stop  to  acquisition  and  ac- 
cumulation by  individuals,  would,  if  successful,  reduce  men  to 
a  lazy  and  impotent  herd. 

It  should  be  noticed  that  in  connection  with  the  Will,  the 
term  Desire  has  a  different  and  wider  meaning. 

We  shall  now  describe  briefly  the  most  important  kinds  of 
Desire. 

DESIRE  OF  PROPERTY  AND  POWER. 

Desire  of  property  is  not,  as  some  writers  say,  a  longing  for 
the  objects  which  will  gratify  our  sense-feelings.  That  would 
be  only  Appetite  controlled  by  Intellect.  The  Desire  of 
Property    seeks    the  gratification  of  the  sense  of  possession, 


248  The  Feelings. 

which  is  a  mental  pleasure  depending  on  the  Natural  Affection 
of  Self-love.  This  desire  is  hence  quite  different  from  the  de- 
sire which  an  animal  has  to  catch  game  in  order  to  eat  it, 
though  some  writers  confound  the  two.  Specific  objects  are 
desired  because  they  give  pleasure  in  this  way,  by  being  pos- 
sessed. To  desire  them  for  the  sake  of  sense-pleasure  is  de- 
veloped appetite. 

The  Desire  of  Property  is  thus  very  slightly  distinguished 
from  the  Desire  of  Power.  The  former  is  power  over  things, 
the  latter  is  property  in  persons,  or  power  over  persons.  When 
the  desire  of  property  degenerates  into  the  miser's  love  of  gold, 
it  becomes  a  mere  artificial  Appetite;  the  miser  gloats  over  his 
gold,  feels  of  it,  enjoys  the  sensations  it  gives,  thinks  not  of 
what  it  can  purchase,  but  longs  for  it  as  a  drunkard  does  for 
drink. 

When  the  Desire  of  Power  becomes  excessive  and  unregu- 
lated it  is  called  Ambition,  a  term  which  is  used,  however,  in 
other  meanings.  But  in  ambition,  in  this  sense,  $elf-love  has 
a  part,  especially  in  the  form  of  Self-esteem.  A  great  ruler 
comes  to  think  himself  worthy  of  the  service  and  adoration  of 
whole  nations,  and  finds  his  chief  joy  in  making  millions  do 
his  bidding. 

Again,  we  may  desire  property  on  account  of  the  indirect 
power  which  it  gives  us  over  persons,  or  we  may  desire  power 
on  account  of  the  facility  it  will  give  us  in  acquiring  property. 

DESIRE  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

This  Feeling  might  well  be  divided  between  the  desire  of 
property  and  that  of  power.  We  desire  knowledge  either  to 
have  it  as  our  own,  for  the  pleasure  of  possession,  or  to  use  it 
in  getting  power  over  others  in  order  to  procure  other  posses- 
sions. Knowledge  must,  indeed,  be  considered  as,  in  itself,  a 
higher  good  than  property  or  power,    since  it  pertains  more 


The  Affections.  249 

completely  to  the  intellectual  life,  less  to  the  social  life.  The 
desire  of  knowledge  is  universally  recognized  as  pure  and 
praiseworthy.  Yet  it  is  perhaps  equally  capable  with  the 
others  of  mixture  with  self-love,  and  is,  like  them,  a  self-regarding 
feeling. 

Desire  of  Knowledge  may  be  perverted,  artificial,  and  abnor- 
mal. When  turned  toward  trifling  objects,  especially  if  they 
do  not  really  concern  us,  it  is  called  inquisitiveness.  When  it 
attaches  an  exaggerated  importance  to  forms,  it  is  called  ped- 
antry. There  are  men  who  spend  their  lives  in  mousing  out 
unimportant  facts  of  history,  and  rejoice  when  they  have  found 
one,  like  a  miser  over  hidden  treasure.  This  love  of  knowl- 
edge corresponds  to  avarice.  It  loves  facts  for  themselves,  or 
for  the  pleasure  of  novelty,  or  for  the  vanity  of  discovery, — not 
for  usefulness  to  mankind. 

Yet  it  is  difficult  to  say  what  knowledge  is  worthless.  The 
most  apparently  useless  of  items,  especially  in  the  sciences, 
may  prove  the  key  to  unexplained  and  difficult  problems. 


THE  AFFECTIONS. 


We  have  found  that  the  Appetites  have  reference  to  pleasure 
of  the  senses  and  excitement  of  the  nerves;  that  the  Desires 
have  reference  to  the  pleasure  of  possession,  and  its  deriva- 
tives; that  both  are  self-regarding,  are  easily  complicated  with 
self-love,  and  easily  degraded  into  vicious,  unworthy,  or  abnor- 
mal feelings.  We  have  now  to  notice  a  class  of  feelings  higher 
in  every  respect  than  these.  They  have  reference,  not  to 
things,  but  to  persons;  they  are  not  entirely  self-regarding;  they 
are  connected  with  the  highest  pleasures  of  the  social,  moral, 


250  The  Feelings. 

and  religious  life;  their  mere  exercise  affords  the  intensest 
pleasure,  or,  when  they  are  perverted,  the  acutest  pain.  They 
are  usually  divided  into  Natural  Affections  and  Moral  Affec- 
tions. 

"  They  are  that  part  of  the  constitution  of  man  by  which  he 
is  so  put  in  relation  with  his  fellows  that  society  becomes  pos- 
sible."    (Hopkins,  Moral  Science,  130.) 

The  simplest  and  most  primitive  of  the  Affections  are  the 
direct  accompaniment  of  physical  relations.  The  higher, 
more  developed,  and  more  complicated  Affections  arise  out  of 
family  and  social  relations,  and  are  developed  in  scope,  breadth, 
and  purity,  by  and  with  the  general  social,  intellectual,  and  re- 
ligious progress  of  the  race.  We  begin  with  the  class  nearest 
allied  to  the  physical  organism,  as  in  our  usual  plan. 

NATURAL  AFFECTIONS. 

These  are  usually  divided  into  Benevolent  and  Malevolent. 
But  it  is  in  dispute  whether  there  be  any  natural  feeling  which 
can  properly  be  called  malevolent.  We  prefer  the  terms 
Defensive  and  Punitive  Feelings,  and  hold  that  any  feeling 
truly  malevolent  is  a  perversion,  or  artificial  or  abnormal 
development,  of  a  necessary  defensive  endowment.  We  have 
already  described  defensive  feeling  in  the  form  of  Anger,  and 
shown  how  it  may  change  into  Hatred,  which  is  usually  called 
an  Affection.  The  terms  benevolent  and  malevolent  imply 
Will,  while  the  Natural  Affections  do  not.  •  '*  Where  an  animal, 
as  the  parent  bird,  does  good  to  another,  it  is  from  no  rational 
estimate  of  the  good  as  a  motive  lying  before  it,  and  so  as  good 
willing,  but  from  a  beneficent,  spontaneous,  constitutional 
impulse,  prompting  from  behind.  .  .  .  It  is  equally  true 
of  the  beast  of  prey  that  he  has  no  malevolence  towards  his 
victim.  He  does  not  hate  him,  he  simply  wishes  to  eat  him. 
.    '.     .     There  is  no  natural  affection,  either  in  animals  or  in 


The  Affections.  251 

man,  that  has  for  its  object  the  production  of  evil  for  evil's  sake." 
(Hopkins,  Outline  Study  of  Man,  217.) 

Whether  the  defensive  and  punitive  feelings  be  Natural 
Affections  or  prolonged,  half-suppressed,  and  complicated 
Emotions,  may  be  a  question  of  some  difficulty,  but  does  not 
seem  important.  Their  perversion  into  hatred,  cruelty,  malice, 
and  all  strictly  malevolent  affections,  is  the  work  of  Sin,  and 
its  discussion  belongs  to  moral  philosophy  and  theology.  The 
Will  must  be  investigated  before  this  point  can  be  understood. 

The  beneficent  natural  affections  are  thus  reduced  to  Love, 
Sympathy,  and  Self-love,  which  we  shall  briefly  describe. 

LOVE. 

One  difficulty  in  using  the  term  Love  is  the  ambiguity  and 
wide. range  of  the  word.  From  the  grossest  physical  appetites, 
through  a  vast  range  of  different  feelings  of  various  kinds,  up 
to  the  purest  and  loftiest  feeling  of  adoration  toward  the 
Deity,  Love  is  applied  to  all.  Men  are  said  to  love  any  savory 
dish  or  any  favorite  drink,  to  love  pleasure,  to  love  excitement, 
to  love  their  mothers,  to  love  their  friends,  to  love  them- 
selves, to  love  their  country,  to  love  all  men,  to  love  God. 
Love  is  thus  found  among  the  Appetites,  Emotions,  Desires, 
and  Affections. 

In  describing  Love  as  a  natural  affection,  we  of  course  do 
not  use  the  word  in  any  such  vague  sense,  but  confine  it  to 
love  for  sentient  beings,  and  to  disinterested  love. 

Some  writers  have  denied  the  possibility  of  disinterested  af- 
fection, and  declared  that  all  human  feelings  are  really  egois- 
tic, that  we  love  others  because  they  give  us  pleasure,  or  be- 
cause it  gives  us  pleasure  to  love  them.  But  a  love  which  is 
not  altruistic  is  not  worthy  of  the  name  of  love.  (The  term 
Altruism  was  invented  by  Comte,  as  a  correlative  to  Egoism, 
and  has  been  widely  used  by  Herbert  Spencer  and  his  disci- 


252  The  Feelings. 

pies.)  Egoistic  love  of  others  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  "  A 
desire  for  our  own  happiness  cannot  be  an  element  of  affec- 
tion, and  when,  for  the  sake  of  that,  we  pursue  toward  others 
such  a  course  as  affection  would  prompt,  the  whole  source  and 
character  of  our  happiness,  if  we  gain  any,  is  gone."  (Hop- 
kins, Moral  Science,  131.) 

Simulated  love  may  gain  lower  ends,  satisfaction  of  desire  or 
appetite,  but  it  cannot  bring  the  pleasure  which  is  the  reaction 
of  pure  altruistic  affection;  and  this  fact  is  quite  generally  rec- 
ognized. Thus  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  says, — "  Pure  egoism  is, 
even  in  its  immediate  results,  less  successfully  egoistic  than  is 
the  egoism  duly  qualified  by  altruism,  which,  besides  achiev- 
ing additional  pleasures,  achieves  also,  through  raised  vitality,  a 
greater  capacity  for  pleasures  in  general."  He  also  says  that 
even  among  the  lower  animals  "parental  sacrifice  is  not  ac- 
companied by  the  consciousness  of  sacrifice,  but  is  made  from 
a  direct  desire  to  make  it."  And  he  adds, — "  If  we  trace 
these  relations  up  through  the  grades  of  mankind,  and  observe 
how  largely  love  rather  than  obligation  prompts  the  care  of 
children,  we  see  that  achievement  of  parental  happiness  coin- 
cides with  securing  the  happiness  of  offspring."  (Data  of 
Ethics  §  79  and  92.) 

The  best  type  of  altruistic  Natural  Affection  is  the  love  of  a 
mother  for  her  child.  This  is  the  direct  result  of  the  physical 
relation  between  them.  In  the  lower  animals  it  subsists  only 
as  long  as  the  young  need  the  mother's  care  to  sustain  life. 
In  the  human  race  this  care  is  needed  for  several  years,  and 
maternal  love  changes  its  character,  though  losing,  generally* 
nothing  of  its  strength  with  time. 

In  the  progress  of  civilization  or  intellectual  and  spiritual 
culture,  the  mutual  love  of  parent  and  child  becomes  refined, 
until  it  is  the  highest  expression  for  purity,  and  is  used  as  the 
type  of  the  relation  between  God  and  the  human  race. 


The    Affections.  253 

As  the  exercise  of  parental  love  gives  the  highest  pleasure, 
well  deserving  the  higher  name  of  happiness,  so  its,  disappoint-.- 
ment  gives  the  deepest  pain.     The  loss  of  a  child  causes  the 
deepest  grief,  the  ingratitude  of  a  child,  "  sharper  than  a  ser- 
pent's tooth,"  causes  the  heaviest  sorrow. 

When  love  extends  to  strangers  or  to  the  whole  race,  as  in 
the  case  of  a  missionary  or  an  apostle,  it  belongs  rather 
among  the  Moral  Affections,  involves  the  action  of  the  Will, 
and  deserves  the  name  of  a  Benevolent  Affection. 

The  lower  animals  are  capable  of  a  good  deal  of  natural  af- 
fection for  one  another  and  for  human  beings,  springing  out  of - 
relations  of   constant   companionship   and  complete  depend- 
ence. 

SYMPATHY. 

This  term,  as  its  etymology  denotes,  means  "  with-feeling," 
pain  or  pleasure  excited  by  the  knowledge  of  the  pain  or  pleas- 
ure of  others.  We  call  it  a  Natural  Affection  because  it  is 
spontaneous,  and  not  under  the  control  of  the  will,  and  be- 
cause it  has  beginnings  in  the  physical  organism. 

Thus,  if  we  see  a  person  rowing,  or  swimming,  or  balancing 
on  a  tight-rope,  we  sway  our  bodies  in  unison  with  him,  if  we 
are  deeply  interested.  If  one  person  yawns  in  a  company,  the 
others  are  impelled  to  yawn.  "Unpractised  assistants  at  sur- 
gical operations  often  faint;  a  boy  has  been  known  to  die  on 
witnessing  an  execution.  We  have  all  experienced  the  uncom- 
fortable feeling  of  shame  produced  in  us  by  the  blunders  and 
confusion  of  a  nervous  speaker.  We  find  ourselves  unable  to 
avoid  joining  in  the  merriment  of  our  friends,  whilst  unaware 
of  its  cause;  and  children,  much  to  their  annoyance,  are  often 
forced  to  laugh  in  the  midst  of  their  tears,  by  witnessing  the 
laughter  of  those  around  them."  (Herbert  Spencer,  Social 
Statics,  115.) 

The    fullest   treatment   of  Sympathy   has   been   by   Adam 


254  The  Feelings. 

Smith,  who  has  founded  a  complete  system  of  Ethics  on  this 
one  principle,  drawing  out  the  facts  in  a  similar  way,  and  with 
a  like  industry  to  that  employed  in  his  "Wealth  of  Nations." 
He  has  noticed,  what  is  quite  obvious,  that  Sympathy  depends 
largely  on  the  Imagination.  We  put  ourselves  in  the  place  of 
another,  and  imagine  how  we  should  feel,  in  the  same  circum- 
stances. Edmund  Burke  also  says,  "  sympathy  must  be  con- 
sidered as  a  sort  of  substitution,  by  which  we  are  put  into  the 
place  of  another  man,  and  affected  in  many  respects  as  he  is 
affected. " 

This  operation  of  the  imagination  is  shown  in  several  ways, 
mentioned  by  Adam  Smith.  "  We  sometimes  feel  for  another 
a  passion  of  which  he  seems  to  be  altogether  incapable.  We 
blush  for  the  impudence  and  rudeness  of  another,  though  he 
himself  appears  to  have  no  sense  of  the  impropriety  of  his  own 
behavior.  .  .  What  are  the  pangs  of  a  mother,  when  she 
hears  the  moanings  of  her  infant?  In  her  idea  of  what  it  suf- 
fers, she  joins,  to  its  real  helplessness,  her  own  consciousness 
of  that  helplessness,  and  her  own  terrors  for  the  unknown  con- 
sequences of  its  disorder.  The  infant,  however,  feels  only  the 
uneasiness  of  the  present  instant,  which  can  never  be  great.  . 
.  .  We  sympathize  even  with  the  dead,  and  overlooking  what 
is  of  real  importance  in  their  situation,  that  awful  futurity 
which  awaits  them,  we  are  chiefly  affected  by  circumstances 
which  strike  our  senses,  but  can  have  no  influence  upon  their 
happiness."  (Theory  of  the  Moral  Sentiments  6-8.) 
.  Even  a  fictitious  recital  in  a  play  or  romance,  brings  sympa- 
thetic tears  to  the  eyes  of  the  sensitive.  This  kind  of  Sym- 
pathy has  many  degrees.  "Those  sensitive  hearts,"  said 
Goethe,  "  any  bungler  can  move  them; "  meaning  that  much 
sympathy  is  superficial.  He  himself,  in  his  Sorrows  of 
Werther,  described  the  disappointment  and  suicide  of  his 
young  friend  so  vividly,  that  the  book  is  said  to  have  caused 
scores  of  suicides. 


The    Affections. 


255 


It  is  a  curious  fact  that  sympathetic  grief  is  often  pleasur- 
able. The  phrase  "luxury  of  grief"  has  some  truth  in  it. 
We  enjoy  sympathizing  with  the  griefs  of  another,  and  he  en- 
joys rehearsing  the  occasion  of  his  pain  and  suffering  it  again 
in  our  company. 

Sympathy,  in  the  true  meaning  of  the  word,  is  neither  ego- 
istic nor  altruistic.  We  do  not  sympathize  with  another  be- 
cause it  gives  us  pleasure  to  do  so,  nor  because  our  sympathy 
gives  him  pleasure,  but  because  we  have  a  natural  impulse  to 
do  so. 

The  term  is  often,  used,  however,  though  not,  we  believe,  by 
accurate  writers,  in  the  sense  of  general  benevolent  or  altruis- 
tic feeling.  In  this  meaning  it  would  come  among  the  Moral 
Affections. 

SELF-LOVE  AND  SELFISHNESS. 

The  term  Self-love  is  a  valuable  one,  as  denoting  a  proper 
and  rational  Egoism,  in  distinction  from  Selfishness,  which  is 
an  excessive  and  irrational  Egoism.  The  term  "  Self-regarding" 
is  also  in  general  use  now;  as,  Self-regarding  Virtues,  con- 
trasted with  Altruistic  Virtues.  It  is  not  easy  to  draw  a  the- 
oretical line  between  a  proper  and  an  excessive  Self-love,  be- 
tween a  proper  self-respect  and  a  foolish  self-conceit.  But  it 
is  agreed  by  most  recent  ethical  writers  that  there  is  such  a 
line,  and  that  self-love  may  be  laudable  or  even  necessary,  and 
that  self-conservation*  is  a  duty. 

Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  has  argued  at  great  length  that  self-love 
is  necessary  even  to  the  existence  of  altruism;  that  altruism,  as 
a  sole  principle  of  action,  would  defeat  itself,  equally  with 
egoism.  This  argument,  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  striking 
in  Mr.  Spencer's  works,  is  found  in  the  latter  chapters  of  the 
Data  of  Ethics.  He  cites  the  evils  of  indiscriminate  charity 
in  society,  and  of  excessive  self-sacrifice  in  the  family.  "Every 
one  can  remember  circles  in  which  the  daily  surrender  of  bene- 


256  The  Feelings. 

fits  by  the  generous  to  the  greedy  has  caused  increase  of  greed- 
iness,  until  there  has  been  produced  an  unscrupulous  greediness 
intolerable  to  all  around."  He  points  out  that  unthinking 
altruism  would  often  lead  to  the  death  of  those  so  disposed, 
and  so  to  the  injury  of  society;  and  that  those  who  profess  to  be 
guided  by  pure  altruism  generally  show  in  their  actions  a  good 
mixture  of  egoism.  After  many  other,  more  abstract  argu- 
ments, which  we  cannot  summarize,  he  concludes  thus: — 

"It  is  admitted  that  self-happiness  is,  in  a  measure,  to  be 
obtained  by  furthering  the  happiness  of  others.  May  it  not  be 
true  that,  conversely,  general  happiness  is  to  be  obtained  by 
furthering  self-happiness  ?  If  the  well-being  of  each  unit  is  to 
be  reached  partly  through  his  care  for  the  well-being  of  the 
aggregate,  is  not  the  well-being  of  the  aggregate  to  be  reached 
partly  through  the  care  of  each  unit  for  himself?  Clearly,  gen- 
eral happiness  is  to  be  achieved  mainly  through  the  adequate 
pursuit  of  their  own  happiness  by  individuals,  while,  recipro- 
cally, the  happiness  of  individuals  is  to  be  achieved  in  part  by 
their  pursuit  of  the  general  happiness."     (§  91.) 

Our  main  objection  to  this  argument  is, — it  seems  to  assume 
that  there  is  really  some  danger  of  excessive  altruism  becom- 
ing the  rule  in  society.  On  the  contrary,  the  machinery  of 
criminal  law  is  employed  to  a  vast  extent  in  repressing  exces- 
sive selfishness,  while  thousands  of  preachers  and  other  moral 
teachers,  employed  in  cultivating  a  very  moderate  type  of  altru- 
ism, do  not  have  an  alarming  amount  of  success.  The  num- 
ber of  those  who  need  to  be  urged  to  moderate  their  altruism 
and  cultivate  egoism  is  still  comparatively  very  small. 

The  fact  is,  men  act  from  mixed  motives,-  some  selfish  and 
some  unselfish,  and  are  often  egoistic  in  some  relations  of  life 
and  altruistic  in  others.  Indiscriminate  alms-giving,  for  ex- 
ample, is  no  proof  of  altruistic  feeling;  it  is  usually  done  to  save 
trouble  and  annoyance,  or  from  superstitious  motives.    Again, 


The    Affections.  257 

a  man  may  be  kind  and  liberal  to  his  family,  but  harsh  and 
extortionate  to  his  employes. 

The  opposites,  subjectively  speaking,  of  Self-love,  are  self- 
reproach,  self-abasement,  and  the  like.  Modesty  and  humility 
are  rather  opposites  of  self-conceit  and  self-complacency,  and 
are  not  entirely  incompatible  with  self-respect  or  self-love. 

A  refined  and  rational  selfishness  in  intelligent  persons, 
would  evidently  require  a  proper  subordination  of  the  lower 
powers  and  feelings,  because  the  higher  give  more  exquisite 
and  long-continued  pleasure.  It  would  also  require  that  selfish- 
ness itself  should  not  be  too  obtrusive,  becoming  self-conceit, 
arrogance,  self-esteem,  since  these  repel  our  fellow-men,  and  so 
make  life  less  pleasant. 

Many  terms  are  in  common  use,  expressing  different  degrees 
and  combinations  of  Natural  Affection,  such  as,  Passion,  Grat- 
itude, Kindness,  Trust,  Faith,  Vanity,  Conceit,  Self-compla- 
cency, Modesty,  Friendship,  Sociability,  Courtesy,  Resentment, 
Wrath,  Indignation,  Humanity,  Philanthropy,  Patriotism,  Pity, 
Compassion,  etc.  To  discriminate  these  is  no  part  of  our 
present  purpose. 

MORAL  AFFECTIONS. 

Some  writers  confuse  the  Natural  with  the  Moral  Affections, 
but,  on  the  plan  we  have  adopted,  the  distinction  is  plain,  and, 
at  least  in  theory,  easily  preserved.  The  Natural  Affections 
spring  out  of  natural  relations,  that  is,  physical  or  social  rela- 
tions, not  moral  relations.  Under,  the  first  we  love  our  rela- 
tives, because  we  are  born  into  intimate  relations  with  them; 
not  to  love  them  is  called  unnatural.  We  love  those  who  do 
us  favors;  not  to  do  so  is  called  ingratitude.  We  love,  -in  a 
less  intimate  way,  and  are  ready  to  benefit,  our  neighbors  and 
friends,  because  of  our  social  relations  with  them;  not  to  do 
so  is  called  base  and  churlish. 


258  The  Feelings. 

But  Moral  Affection  is  love  and  approval  toward  all  who  dis- 
play moral  excellence,  self-sacrifice  for  worthy  objects,  purity, 
truthfulness,  whether  exerted  toward  ourselves  or  not.  Or  it  is 
indignation  and  disapproval  against  those  who  display  moral 
wrong,  cruelty,  injustice,  etc.,  whether  against  ourselves  or  not. 
It  has  a  still  higher  reach,  too,  in  love  for  those  who  are  morally 
base  and  wrong,  and  self-sacrificing  efforts  to  make  them  better 
morally.  This  has  the  highest  reward,  and  gives  the  highest 
happiness.  "  If  ye  love  them  which  love  you,  what  thank 
have  ye  ?  " 

We  may  find  aid  in  understanding  moral  feeling  if  we  expand 
an  illustration  of  President  Hopkins.  Suppose  a  perfectly 
good  being  to  meet  a  perfectly  bad  one.  What  would  be  the 
feelings  of  the  former  ?  He  could  not  love  the  latter,  in  the 
same  way  that  he  would  love  a  being  like  himself.  He  would 
certainly  feel  repugnance,  dislike,  abhorrence,  though  he  would 
strongly  desiie  that  being's  moral  good.  But  suppose  the  evil 
being  to  perform  some  wanton  act  of  injury  against  the  good 
being.  There  would  then  be  condemnation,  a  holy  resent- 
ment, a  desire  that  the  guilty  being  should  be  stopped  in  his 
career  of  evil,  that  justice  should  be  done  him,  as  a  restraint 
and  warning. 

This  moral  feeling  of  opposition  is  by  some  ^called  malevo- 
lent, as  the  opposite  of  benevolent.  But  to  understand  malev- 
olence, in  any  proper  sense  of  the  term,  we  must  imagine  the 
feelings  of  the  evil  being  while  doing  a  wanton  injury.  '  He 
hates  the  good  being,  and  wills  to  do  him  wrong;  or  he  takes 
pleasure  in  the  sufferings  of  others. 

It  is  evident,,  then,  that  Moral  Affections  involve  the  will, 
are  either  benevolent  or  malevolent.  But  we  hold  that  the 
latter,  as  exhibited  in  man,  are  not  a  part  of  his  original  nature, 
but  are  exhibitions  of'  an  evil  will,  a  nature  perverted  by  sin. 

The   discussion  of  the   moral   qualities  of  actions,  of  the 


The  Affections.  259 

nature  of  good,  of  the  nature  and  obligation  of  benevolent 
feeling  and  action,  belong  to  the  science  of  Ethics  or  Moral 
Philosophy.  It  requires  previous  study  of  the  Will,  and  we  do 
not  deem  it  best  to  discuss  Moral  Affection  more  fully  here. 

THE  RELIGIOUS  FEELINGS. 

These  are  the  Emotions,  Desires,  and  Affections,  as  related 
to  and  modified  by  the  objects  of  religious  contemplation.  As 
the  objects  with  which  religion  has  to  do  are  the  most  sublime 
of  all  objects,  so  the  Emotions  and  Affections  they  excite  are 
the  purest  and  grandest  of  which  the  mind  is  capable.  The 
Universe,  the  Eternal  Creator,  the  happiness  of  the  entire 
world,  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  the  immortality  of  man,—  such 
subjects,  when  truly  contemplated,  necessarily  arouse  wonder, 
awe,  reverence,  godly  fear,  gratitude,  and  love. 

Many  variations  and  combinations  of  the  Moral  Feelings 
receive  distinct  names,  such  as, — Mercy,  Forgiveness,  Thank- 
fulness, Justice,  Esteem,  Self-denial,  Self-control,  Benevolence, 
Piety,  Holiness,  with  their  opposites. 


THE  WILL. 

DEFINITIONS  AND  DISTINCTIONS. 


I.     WILL. 

As  Intellect  is  the  mind  perceiving,  judging,  and  reasoning, 
and  as  Feeling  is  the  mind  experiencing  pleasure  and  pain,  so 
AVill  is  the  mind  exercising  Volition. 

It  is  incorrect  to  speak  of  the  Will  as  the  power  of  action. 
There  is  much  action  properly  called  spontaneous  or  involun- 
tary or  automatic,  in  nature,  in  the  physical  organism,  and  in 
the  mind.  The  word  "  action  "  is  ambiguous,  and  may  either 
mean  physical  operation  in  the  series  of  causation,  or  purpose- 
ful and  moral  activity  of  a  free  agent.  (German  Wirken  and 
Handeln.) 

Many  of  the  activities  of  nature  curiously  simulate  the  pur- 
poseful activities  of  volition.  The  roots  of  a  plant  select  from 
the  soil  just  those  elements  which  are  necessary  for  its  pecul- 
iar development,  and,  in  general,  reject  all  others.  Animal 
tissue  absorbs  from  the  circulating  blood  those  molecules 
which  it  needs,  and,  in  general,  rejects  all  others.  When  it 
fails  in  this  discrimination,  the  result  is  abnormal  growth  or 
poisoning.  The  tendrils  of  plants  curl  themselves  around  their 
support  with  every  appearance  of  volition. 

In  the  animal  organism  we  find  still  higher  involuntary  ac- 
tivities.    The  spinal  cord  is  the  seat  of  a  power  of  reflex  move- 


Definitions  and  Distinctions.  261 

ment,  some  of  whose  phenomena  we  have  already  referred  to. 
The  cerebellum  is  supposed  to  be  the  seat  of  that  co-ordina- 
tion of  actions  which  renders  possible  all  mechanical  skill.  A 
vast  amount  of  activity  in  the  organism  is  either  beyond  the 
sphere  of  volition,  like  the  beating  of  the  heart;  or  partly  and 
occasionally  under  voluntary  control,  like  respiration  or  wink- 
ing; or,  originally  voluntary,  ceases  to  be  entirely  so  through 
long  practice,  like  the  specific  muscular  efforts  in  walking. 

A  considerable  portion  of  the  activity  of  the  mind,  too,  may 
be  called  spontaneous.  Man  "  finds  a  succession  of  thoughts 
bubbling  up,  like  waters  from  a  fountain,  of  which  he  knows 
not  the  source,  and  the  tlow  of  which  he  can  no  more  stop 
than  he  can  the  flow  of  a  river.  .  .  .  Man  also  feels  de- 
sires springing  up.  These  he  may  or  may  not  gratify,  but 
there  they  are,  a  part  of  his  nature.  The  natural  affections, 
too,  put  forth  their  tendrils  like  a  vine,  and  quite  as  independ- 
ently of  any  will  of  man."     (Hopkins,  Moral  Science,  81.) 

II.     VOLITION. 

The  term  Volition  is  generally  used  to  denote  the  whole 
function  of  the  Will.  Yet  a  completed  act  of  volition  involves 
two  distinct  elements,  Executive  or  External  Volition,  and 
Moral  Volition  or  Choice.  These,  indeed,  are  sometimes 
called  two  distinct  kinds  of  volition,  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
some  writers  confound  the  two  elements,  and  fail  to  make  any 
distinction  between  them.  "These  elements  of  Will,  choice 
and  volition,  have  not  been  distinguished  as  they  should  have 
been,  and,  in  consequence,  the  discussions  respecting  the  Will 
have   been   perplexed."     (Hopkins,  Outline    Study,  225.) 

The  two  elements  differ  in  several  ways.  The  result  of  an 
executive  volition  is  an  external  act  or  mental  process;  the  re- 
sult of  a  choice  is  a  state  of  the  will,  which  may  be  called  a 
state  of  choice  or  of  determination,  and  which  results  in  ex- 


262  The  Will. 

ternal  volitions,  or  a  series  of  them,  whenever  the  proper  con- 
ditions are  supplied.  They  differ  in  their  nature;  the  former 
is  mechanical,  the  latter  spiritual  and  free.  They  differ  in  the 
matter  with  which  they  are  concerned;  the  former  has  to  do 
with  the  activities  of  physical  and  social  life;  the  latter  with 
rational  and  moral  decisions  and  purposes.  The  former  is 
shared  by  the  lower  animals,  the  latter  belongs  to  man  alone 
of  earthly  beings,  and  is  what  constitutes  him  a  person. 
"Thus  does  the  Will  imply  and  involve  the  two  great  ele- 
ments of  Intellect  and  Force.  Intellect,  it  implies,  in  connec- 
tion with  choice,  for  the  purpose  of  comprehension  and  ration- 
ality; and  Force  in  connection  with  volition,  for  the  purpose  of 
execution.  We  see,  then,  at  this  point,  the  two  elements  of 
which  Will  is  composed,  the  power  of  choice,  and  the  power 
of  volition,  each  of  which  is  essential  to  the  being  and  the  ex- 
pression of  personality,  in  which,  in  order  to  constitute  Will, 
the  two  must  unite."     (Hopkins,  Outline  Study,  224.) 

It  would  be  well  if  the  term  Volition  could  be  restricted  to 
the  meaning  of  executive  volition,  and  the  higher  function  of 
moral  volition  could  be  called  by  some  other  name,  such  as 
Choice,  as  is  done  by  Dr.  Hopkins.  But  if  the  term  Choice 
be  used,  we  need  to  remember  that  it  does  not  include  deliber- 
ation, as  it  often  does  in  popular  usage.  The  term  Volition 
is  so  often  used,  however,  in  the  wide  sense,  that  the  student 
needs,  in  any  event,  to  be  familiar  with  it  in  both  meanings, 
and  we  can  hardly  escape  all  such  use  of  it. 

Many  recent  writers,  especially  evolutionists,  use  the  term 
Volition  in  the  external  sense  only,  and  even  stoutly  deny  that 
there  is  any  other  kind  of  volition.  Bain,  for  example,  de- 
scribes at  great  length  the  supposed  origin,  growth,  cultivation, 
and  perfection  of  voluntary  movement  of  the  different  muscles 
of  the  body;  he  then  describes  the  voluntary  command  of  the 
feelings  and  thoughts,  which    he  attributes  to  Attention  and 


Definitions  and  Distinctions.  263 

Association.  This  is  the  highest  function  he  permits  to  WiH. 
Choice  he  degrades  to  decision  between  different  objects  of 
desire.  "  When  a  person  purchases  an  article  out  of  several 
submitted  to  view,  the  recommendations  of  that  one  are  said 
to  be  greater  than  of  the  rest,  and  nothing  more  needs  be  said. 
It  may  happen  for  a  moment  the  opposing  attractions  are  ex- 
actly balanced,  and  decision  suspended  thereby,  .  .  .  but 
when  the  decision  is  actually  come  to,  the  fact  and  the  mean- 
ing are  that  some  consideration  has  arisen  to  the  mind,  giving 
a  superior  energy  of  motive  to  the  side  that  has  preponderated. 
.  .  .  The  designation,  liberty  of  choice,  has  no  real  mean- 
ing, except  as  denying  extraneous  interference."  (The  Emo- 
tions and  the  Will.) 

But  such  a  decision  as  Dr.  Bain  here  describes  is  wholly  an 
act  of  judgment,  applying  some  previous  volition,  determining 
to  select  and  buy  that  one  of  a  certain  set  of  articles  which 
should  fulfill  certain  conditions.  As  Dr.  Bascom  has  said, 
"  Bain  gives  the  theory  of  brute  life,  we  are  striving  to  give 
that  of  rational  life."  Choice,  or  moral  volition,  is  not  simply 
the  act  of  an  ass  between  two  bundles  of  hay,  as  we  shall  at- 
tempt to  show  later  on. 

1.  executive  volition. 

Executive  Volition  is  not  the  origin  of  physical  force.  Mod- 
ern science  has  triumphantly  established  that  all  the  physical 
force  exerted  by  the  organism  is  furnished  by  the  transforma- 
tion of  molecular  energy.  Volition  pulls  the  trigger,  or  lights 
the  fuse,  so  to  speak,  which  sets  free  the  mechanical  force 
stored  up  in  the  body.  If  nutrition  is  insufficient,  or  the  force 
has  been  exhausted,  or  the  nerves  are  paralyzed,  volition  can- 
not be  executed.  "  Mental  causation,  in  regard  to  physical 
matters,  bears  a  direct  ratio  to  the  amount  of  force  contained 
in  the  food  taken  into  the  system,  or  otherwise  received  from 


264  The  Will. 

the  external  world;  at  least  it  can  never  go  beyond  this.  Thus 
it  would  appear  that  force  is  directed,  not  generated,  by  the 
soul."     (Everett,  Science  of  Thought.  50.) 

Force  is  the  material  with  which  volition  is  occupied,  the 
element,  the  atmosphere  on  which  it  depends.  "Volition," 
says  President  Hopkins,  "  piesupposes  force,  or  rather  is  nuga- 
tory except  in  a  being  endowed  with  force." 

How  it  is  that  the  mind  can  direct  force,  can  occasion  the  dis- 
charge of  force,  is  unknown.  That  it  actually  does  so  is 
clearly  seen  in  the  phenomena,  already  mentioned,  of  reflex 
movements  and  the  expression  of  emotion.  An  idea,  a  per- 
ception, a  representation,  a  piece  of  news,  may  occasion  vio- 
lent movements  of  laughter,  or  involuntary  screams  and  con- 
vulsions. The  idea  in  the  mind  has  of  course  no  mechanical 
force,  and  cannot  even  "  pull  the  trigger "  which  discharges 
nerve-force.  But  when  the  idea,  in  some  unknown  way,  has 
become  recorded  in  the  brain,  it  may  affect  the  whole  physical 
organism  in  various  ways. 

"  The  soul  does  not  in  any  case  produce  motions  of  the 
body  by  its  own  immediate  operation.  But  it  produces  a 
certain  inner  state,  of  desire  or  will,  in  itself.  From  this 
arises  a  physical  movement,  by  a  process  unknown  to  con- 
sciousness and  independent  of  the  will. 

"  Man  can  only  will.  That  a  realization  follows  does  not  at 
all  depend  on  him,  but  on  the  circumstance  that,  in  the  order 
of  nature,  a  certain  change  of  state  of  the  motor  nerves  is 
joined  to  a  definite  state  of  the  soul.  Where  this  connection 
is  broken,  will  remains  a  mere  desire  without  any  conse- 
quences."    (Lotze,  Dictate,  Psychologie.  §  53,  58.) 

Indeed,  it  is  held  by  recent  writers,  including  Lotze,  that  all 
power  of  directing  the  energies  of  the  body  is  acquired;  that 
the  soul  only  finds  out  that  the  body  is  movable  through  ex- 
perience of  its   involuntary  movements.     It  is  at  least  certain 


Definitions  and  Distinctions 


that  facility  and  accuracy  of  movement  are  acquired,  and  that 
when  a  movement  is  perfected  by  practice,  it  tends  to  become 
involuntary  or  automatic. 

A  knowledge  of  these  facts,  together  with  a  misapprehension 
of  the  true  location  of  freedom,  seems  to  have  been  the  source 
of  a  number  of  erroneous  definitions  of  volition. 

Spinoza  said  that  the  will  and  the  intellect  are  one  and  the 
same.  Hobbes  said  that  the  will  is  the  last  desire  in  delib- 
erating. (Leviathan,  28.)  Dr.  T.  Brown  said  that  volition  is 
a  "feeling  which  the  body  immediately  obeys."  Mr.  Austin 
said,  "  by  volitions  we  mean  desires  which  consummate  them- 
selves." Bain  says,  "  our  voluntary  actions  consist  in  putting 
forth  muscular  power." 

These  writers  have  seen  that  volition  is  not  a  muscular 
movement,  but  apparently  have  not  seen  the  truth,  that  voli- 
tion is  the  act  of  the  mind  which  occasions  or  commands  that 
movement.  But  volition  seldom  orders  a  single  disconnected 
movement,  but  usually  an  action,  or  series  of  actions,  and  the 
specific  movements  follow  according  to  habit  and  association. 
This  introduces  our  next  distinction. 

2.  generic  and  specific  volitions. 

Another  necessary  distinction  is  that  between  specific,  sub- 
ordinate or  secondary,  and  generic  or  primary  volitions  or 
choices.  The  latter  are  those  which  involve  and  necessitate 
subordinate  volitions  under  them.  Obviously,  the  lowest  rank 
of  subordinate  volitions  will  always  be  executive  volitions. 

For  example,  if  I  determine  to  take  a  certain  journey,  that 
is  a  generic  volition;  for  it  requires  me  to  take  all  necessary 
measures  to  carry  it  out,  such  as  providing  funds,  securing  my 
ticket,  packing  my  trunk,  taking  leave  of  my  friends, — all  those 
acts  which  my  habits  and  condition  determine  for  me  in  such 
a  case.     But  each  of  these  may  have  under  it,  in  turn,  subor- 


266  The  Will. 

dinate  volitions, — walking  to  a  certain  house  or  office,  putting 
certain  articles  in  my  trunk,  and  the  like.  These  acts  in  their 
turn  involve  many  specific  muscular  movements,  some  of 
which  are  automatic,  some  co-ordinated,  some  habitual,  and 
some  definitely  willed.  But  the  whole  series  is  a  necessary 
consequence  of  my  generic  volition;  and  when  I  come  to  de- 
cide, in  each  specific  case,  which  of  two  or  more  actions  is  best 
adapted  to  further  my  generic  volition,  the  decision  is  an  act  of 
judgment,  not  of  will,  and  the  carrying  out  of  my  decision  is 
an  executive  volition. 

But  again,  this  generic  volition  may  be  subordinate  to  others 
above  it  in  rank.  My  journey  may  be  part  of  a  plan  to  engage 
in  business,  to  get  an  education,  to  enter  a  profession;  and 
since  such  a  plan  involves  a  whole  life,  generic  choices  or  voli- 
tions can  seldom  be  higher  in  rank  than  these.  The  highest 
possible  generic  choice  is  easily  seen  to  be  the  determination 
to  be  always  governed,  in  every  relation  of  life,  by  the  best 
motives,  rules,  and  maxims, — to  act  in  accordance  with  the 
law  of  God  as  known  and  understood. 

Another  example, — "  I  have  a  strong  desire  to  drink  of  some 
grateful  beverage,  or  to  eat  of  some  tempting  food;  but  I  find 
or  fear  that  to  do  so  might  be  injurious  to  my  health.  I  pause, 
and  hesitate;  but  at  length  decline  the  dangerous  gratification. 
According  to  Dr.  Brown  [and  Prof.  Bain],  there  is  nothing  in 
this  case  but  the  desire  of  eating  or  drinking  being  overcome 
by  the  desire  of  health, — that  is,  a  weaker  desire  by  a  stronger." 
According  to  the  older  advocates  of  free-will,  whenever  the 
tempting  dish  is  presented,  I  balance  anew  the  motives  on 
each  side,  and  reach  a  free  decision.  According  to  more  recent 
advocates  of  free-will,  I  have  previously  decided  to  avoid  what- 
ever I  know  to  be  injurious  to  my  health,  and  when  the  grati- 
fication is  offered  me,  I  have  only  to  decide,  by  an  act  of  judg- 
ment, whether  it  comes  under  the  class  of  things  injurious  to 


Definitions  and  Distinctions.  267 

my  health,  and  if  so  it  is  at  once  rejected.  This  implies,  it  will 
be  noticed,  that  the  generic  volition  is  imperious  and  unchange- 
able; this  may  be  the  case,  but  in  fact  generic  volitions  are  sub- 
ject to  change  or  suspension.  I  may  forget  it,  under  strong 
excitement;  I  may  give  it  up  when  appetite  or  desire  is  strong. 
But,  in  such  a  case,  I  have  afterwards  a  feeling  of  shame  for 
my  inconsistency  or  sin.  A  truly  rational  being  does  not 
lightly  change  a  generic  choice  or  volition,  when  once  made  in 
the  full  light  of  reason. 

Some  terms,  used  to  denote  generic  rational  choice,  and  the 
state  of  determination  which  it  produces,  may  perhaps  require 
explanation. 

1.  Immanent  Preference.  This  denotes  the  state  of  the 
Will  when  a  choice  has  been  reached,  but  no  opportunity  of 
completing  it  by  executive  volitions  has  been  afforded.  Here 
the  generic  volition  is  constantly  in  force.  "  A  continual  state 
of  choice,"  says  Dr.  Hopkins,  "  is  as  much  a  condition  of  our 
lives,  at  least  in  our  waking  hours,  as  continual  thought."  The 
value  of  right  preferences  of  this  kind  can  hardly  be  over- 
estimated. "  The  immanent  preference  of  objects  and  ends," 
says  Dr.  Hickok,  "  must  widely  affect  the  entire  personal  char- 
acter, though  the  action  towards  the  object  externally  be  always 
restrained.  The  whole  inner  experience  of  the  man  is  modi- 
fied by  it,  and  all  his  habits  of  meditation  and  silent  reflection 
become  tinged  with  the  color  of  his  secret  preferences."  The 
Bible  attributes  moral  quality  to  these  preferences.-  "Thou 
shalt  not  covet."  "  Whoso  hateth  his  brother  is  a  murderer." 
"  It  was  in  thine  heart  to  build  an  house  to  my  name,  thou 
didst  well  that  it  was  in  thine  heart." 

2.  Governing  Purpose  means  a  generic  choice  manifesting 
itself  in  subordinate  volitions,  prompting  and  guiding  them. 
"The  action,  as  will,  has  not  terminated  in  the  choosing;  it 
flows  on  in  a  perpetuated  current  toward  its  object,  and  the  spirit 


268  The  Will. 

may  be  said  to  be  in  a  permanent  state  of  will."  The  act  of 
choice,  by  which  the  mind  entered  upon  this  state  of  will,  may 
have  passed  out  of  memory,  or  may  have  never  been  very 
clearly  in  consciousness.  A  man  may  have  almost  uncon- 
sciously formed  the  governing  purpose  to  amass  riches,  may 
have  "set  his  heart  on  getting  rich,"  as  his  friends  say  of  him, 
"  and  the  purpose  itself  may  have  strengthened  so  insidiously, 
that  the  man  has  no  conception  what  a  very  miser  he  has  be- 
come; but  there  needs  only  to  be  suddenly  interposed  some 
threatened  danger  to  his  wealth,  or  some  obstacle  to  any  fur- 
ther gains,  and  at  once  the  perturbed  spirit  manifests  the  in- 
tensity of  its  avarice."     (Dr.  Hickok.) 

3.  Disposition,  Character,  Heart,  and  other  terms,  are  often 
used  in  a  way  which  implies  the  conception  of  generic  choices. 

III.     MOTIVES. 

The  term  Motive  is  used  in  several  distinct  senses,  the  more 
important  of  which  must  be  carefully  distinguished. 

I.    OBJECTIVE    MOTIVES. 

In  popular  speech  the  term  Motive  is  applied  to  the  out- 
ward object  through  apprehension  of  which  by  the  Intellect, 
Feeling  becomes  excited,  and  so  the  Will  set  in  action.  But 
here  there  is  generally  a  conscious  or  half-conscious  ellipsis. 
When  we  say,  "money  was  the  motive  of  his  actions,"  we 
mean  the  love  of  money,  the  desire  of  property.  It  is  incor- 
rect to  speak  of  the  external  object  as  directly  moving  the  will. 
All  are  agreed  that  intellect  must  first  apprehend  the  object, 
and  feeling  must  be  aroused  to  activity  by  this  apprehension. 

Some  writers  use  the  term  Motive  in  a  way  which  at  first 
sight  seems  to  refer  to  the  external  object,  but  it  will  usually 
be  found  that  this  is  not  their  meaning.  Thus  Jonathan 
Edwards  says, — "  By  motive  I  mean  the  whole  of  that  which 


Definitions  and  Distinctions.  269 

moves,  excites,  or  invites  the  mind  to  volition,  whether  that  be 
one  thing  singly,  or  many  things  conjunctly."  But  he  also 
says, — "  Whatever  is  a  motive,  must  be  something  that  is  ex- 
tant in  the  view  or  apprehension  of  the  understanding  or  per- 
ceiving faculty."  Here  the  motive  is,  not  simply  the  external 
object,  but  the  object  as  viewed  or  apprehended  by  the  mind. 
But  even  this  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  best  recent  philo- 
sophical usage. 

President  Day,  again,  uses  similar  expressions.  "  An  object 
which  is  in  view  of  the  mind,  has  a  tendency  to  move  the 
will."  But  he  adds,  "  that  which  immediately  excites  the  voli- 
tion is  an  affection  of  the  mind,  an  emotion,  an  internal  mo- 
tive." This,  we  believe,  is  always  really  understood.  An  ex- 
ternal object  cannot  be  a  motive,  in  any  proper  sense  of  the 
word.     All  motives  are  subjective. 

2.  subjective  motives. 

All  motives  are,  properly  speaking,  subjective.  The  dis- 
tinction between  objective  and  subjective  motives  is  then  a 
cautionary  one,  having  no  real  value  in  the  discussion  of  the 
Will. 

But  the  term  subjective  is  often  applied  to  motives  in  an- 
other and  peculiar  way,  implying  that  the  same  object  or  event 
may  be  the  occasion  of  more  or  less  urgent  desires  or  emo- 
tions, when  apprehended  by  one  person  than  by  another,  or  by 
the  same  person  in  different  circumstances,  and  hence  of  dif- 
ferent volitions.  "  A  man  of  slow,  narrow  intellect  is  unable  to 
perceive  the  value  of  an  object,  or  the  advantage  of  a  course 
of  conduct,  so  clearly  or  so  quickly  as  a  man  of  large  and  vig- 
orous intellect. 

"  The    consequence    will  be,   that    with   the  same   motives 

(objectively   considered)    presented    to    them,  the    one    may 

remain    indifferent    to   the    advantage    held   out,    while   the 
18 


270  The  Will. 

other  will  at  once  apprehend  and  pursue  it.  A  man  of  cold 
and  dull,  affections  will  contemplate  a  spectacle  of  pain  or 
want,  without  feeling  any  desire  or  making  any  exertion  to  re- 
lieve it;  while  he  whose  sensibilities  are  more  acute  and  lively 
will  instantly  be  moved  to  the  most  active  and  generous  efforts. 
An  injury  done  to  one  man  will  rouse  him  at  once  to  a  frenzy 
of  indignation,  which  will  prompt  him  to  the  most  extravagant 
measures  of  retaliation;  while,  in  another  man,  it  will  only  give 
rise  to  a  moderate  feeling  of  resentment."  (Fleming,  Moral 
Philosophy,  177.) 

This  important  variation  in  the  power  of  motives  should 
rather  be  called  relativity  than  subjectivity  of  motives.  It  evi- 
dently has  no  relation  to  the  Will,  but  only  to  the  Intellect 
and  Feeling. 

3.    MOTIVE    AS    CAUSE. 

The  term  Motive  is  most  widely  used  to  denote  that  state  of 
Feeling  which  precedes  and  determines  an  act  of  the  Will, 
"the  terminating  state  or  affection  of  the  mind  which  imme- 
diately precedes  the  volition."  But  this  does  not,  of  course, 
imply  that  the  motive  is  the  sole  cause.  "  Motives  do  not  pro- 
duce volitions  without  a  mind.  They  are  not  the  agent 
They  do  not  love  and  hate,  resolve  and  choose.  But  if  a  mo- 
tive has  any  influence  on  the  determination  of  the  will,  it  is 
one  of  the  antecedents  on  which  the  volition  depends.  The 
agent  does  not  will  without  motives,  nor  do  motives  will  with- 
out an  agent."     (President  Day,  Inquiry,  59.) 

The  definition  of  Edwards  includes  this  meaning  of  Motive 
also.  But  it  should  be  noted  that,  in  his  time,  Desire  was  con- 
sidered a  part  of  the  will,  and  not  classed  among  the  feelings. 

Popular  language  also  makes  use  of  this  sense  of  the  word 
Motive.  Thus  we  say,  "  his  motive  in  running  away  was  fear," 
''my  motive   in   asking  was   mere  curiosity."     Moreover,  we 


Definitions  and  Distinctions.  271 

always  expect  some  such  motive  and  search  for  it.  We  say, 
"  what  motive  could  he  have  had  for  so  strange  an  action  ? " 
And  we  are  satisfied  with  the  answer  that  it  was  revenge,  or 
avarice,  or  remorse. 

Of  course,  if  the  Motive  is  the  cause,  or  part  of  the  cause, 
of  volition,  questions  will  arise  as  to  the  connection  between 
the  state  of  the  Feeling  and  the  Will.  This  has  indeed  been 
the  subject  of  various  theories  and  of  much  controversy. 
Those  who  deny  freedom  easily  settle  the  point  by  saying  that 
the  connection  is  a  causative  one,  the  state  of  the  Desire  being 
the  cause  of  the  state  of  the  Will.  Believers  in  freedom  are 
bound  to  show  where  freedom  resides. 

It  is  generally  admitted  that  freedom  does  not  reside  in  the 
intellect  or  in  the  feelings.  When  an  external  object  is  pre- 
sented to  the  sense-organs  (proper  conditions  being  implied), 
the  mind  cannot  help  perceiving  it,  and  perceiving  under  the 
categories  of  Space,  Number,  and  Identity;  cannot  choose  but 
classify  it,  and  experience  associations  connected  with  it.  No 
more  can  it  escape  the  feelings  aroused  by  this  perception, 
with  its  accompanying  associations.  The  question  is,  whether 
these  feelings  irresistibly  cause,  or  only  afford  opportunity  for 
the  volition  that  follows. 

Perhaps  the  best  and  at  the  present  time  most  usual  answer, 
on  the  part  of  those  who  believe  in  freedom,  is  that  the  mind 
has  a  power  of  rational  choice  by  which  it  can  select  the  high- 
est and  noblest  motives,  and  act  according  to  them.  On  this 
theory,  motives  are  the  material  with  which  the  Will  works,  the 
medium  in  which  it  operates,  the  atmosphere  that  sustains  it, 
rather  than  the  cause  of  its  activity.  The  full  answer  to  the 
question  must  be  postponed  until  we  have  made  further 
preparations. 


272  The  Will. 

4.  motive  as  end. 

Another  use  of  the  term  Motive  is  to  denote  the  End  (object, 
purpose,  final  cause)  of  an  action,  that  for  which  it  is  done. 
Here  is  obviously  introduced  a  quite  different  and  higher  con- 
ception. We  have  now  the  idea  of  a  rational  being,  purposely 
adapting  his  activities  to  a  pre-conceived  and  previously  chosen 
end;  formerly  we  had  the  idea  of  a  being  capable  of  feeling, 
acted  upon  by  external  objects  or  events,  and  aroused  to  activ- 
ity in  response.  The  difference  is  that  between  volition  and 
choice. 

Under  this  view,  motives  are  expressed  by  the  phrase,  "  in 
order  to  be  or  to  do  something."  For  example,  we  may  eat  in 
order  to  be  strong,  and  this  is  a  different  thing  from  eating  be- 
cause the  appetite  of  hunger  impels  us  to  satisfy  a  natural 
want,  though  the  resulting  action  be  the  same.  Or,  again,  a 
better  example,  I  may  take  exercise  in  order  to  grow  strong; 
and  this  is  a  different  thing  from  exercising,  like  a  child  or  a 
colt,  because  of  an  overflow  of  nervous  energy.  The  one  may 
evidently  be  called  a  rational  action,  the  other  not.  Again,  a 
man  may  pursue  a  dangerous  and  disagreeable  course  of  action 
in  order  to  rescue  an  acquaintance  from  vice  or  crime.  Such  an 
end  would  be  in  the  highest  degree  rational. 

This  introduces  the  further  truth,  that  ends,  as  well  as  voli- 
tions, are  of  different  ranks,  rising  one  above  the  other.  The 
motive  of  a  subordinate  volition  is  a  subordinate  end;  the 
motive  of  a  generic  volition  is  an  ultimate  end;  the  motive  of  a 
supreme  choice  is  a  supreme  end.  A  supreme  choice  and  end 
control  all  inferior  choices  and  ends. 

5.    STRENGTH    OF    MOTIVES. 

The  comparative  strength  of  Motives  has  been  the  subject 
of  a  good  deal  of  discussion,   especially  with  reference  to  the 


Definitions  and  Distinctions.  273 

question  whether  the  Will  is  always  determined  by  the  strong- 
est motive. 

If  by  strength  of  motives  is  meant  the  strength  which  they 
ought  lo  have,  as  guiding  the  will  to  the  best  actions,  and  the 
whole  man  to  the  highest  ends  of  his  being, — even  thus,  it 
might  be  very  difficult,  often,  in  the  complication  of  human 
life,  to  decide  which  subordinate  volitions  are  best  in  harmony 
with  the  supreme  choice,  and  thus  a  wide  field  would  be  left 
open  for  discussion  with  regard  to  the  strength  of  motives. 

But  the  facts  in  relation  to  the  relativity  or  subjectivity  of 
motives,  explained  above,  render  all  calculations  of  the  strength 
of  motives  quite  beyond  human  power.  There  can  be  no  way 
of  measuring  their  efficacy  except  by  the  result.  There  seems 
no  way  out  of  the  difficulty  but  to  admit  that  the  will  is  always 
as  the  strongest  subjective  motive;  yet  men  often  obey  motives 
which  seem  to  others  strangely  inadequate. 

6.       CONFLICT    OF    MOTIVES. 

This  conflict  may  be  of  various  kinds.  (1)  It  may  be  a  con- 
flict between  several  Desires  or  Appetites  which  cannot  all  be 
gratified.  For  example,  I  may  wish  to  eat  my  cake  and  keep 
it  too;  here  the  conflict  is  between  the  present  and  the  future. 
Some  minds  depict  to  themselves  the  future  more  vividly  than 
others,  and  are  inclined  to  postpone  all  present  enjoyment  to  a 
good  time  coming. 

(2)  The  conflict  may  be  between  taking  what  we  can  get,  or 
striving  for  the  impossible.  Haifa  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread, 
though  we  strongly  desire  and  greatly  need  a  whole  loaf.  We 
may  be  obliged  to"  choose  between  education  and  wealth,  or 
honor  and  power,  with  their  varied  gratifications.  Here  again 
different  temperaments  of  mind  will  be  displayed,  some  striv- 
ing frantically  for  the  unattainable,  others  wisely  limiting  the 
range  of  their  desires. 


274  The  Will. 

(3)  The  conflict  may  be  between  lower  and  higher  ends. 
Physical  necessities  are  usually  more  pressing  than  intellectual 
wants,  more  imperious  than  spiritual  needs.  To  subordinate 
the  lower  propensities,  the  habits  of  life,  the  customs  and  fash- 
ions of  society,  to  a  rational  end,  is  always  considered  a  tri- 
umph. 

A  supreme  choice  of  a  rational  end  is  sometimes  made  with 
sufficient  strength  to  carry  with  it  all  intermediate  or  subor- 
dinate volitions,  and  bear  down  all  opposing  motives.  But 
this  is  seldom  the  case.  Temptations  are  still  felt  to  have 
power,  even  by  the  best  of  men,  and  the  conflict  of  motives  is 
unceasing.  Often  strength  of  impulse,  or  habit,  or  desire, 
overcome  the  perception  and  judgment  of  the  intellect,  and 
make  a  certain  subordinate  end  seem  to  be  in  harmony  with 
the  supreme  choice,  though  it  is  really  in  conflict,  and  is  after- 
wards seen  to  be  so. 

IV.     DESIRE. 

The  term  Desire,  when  used  in  connection  with  the  Will, 
usually  denotes  the  last  state  of  the  Feeling  before  volition, 
whatever  its  specific  nature.  Thus  it  may  include  all  the  ap. 
petencies  of  human  nature, — -Appetite,  Desire  in  its  limited 
sense,  and  a  large  element  of  Affection.  Desire,  in  this  usage, 
being  the  last  preliminary  before  volition  and  the  "  terminat- 
ing state  "  of  feeling  is  often,  not  inappropriately,  called  "  in- 
cipient volition."  It  is  easy  to  see,  therefore,  why  Desire  was 
so  long  considered  as  an  act  of  the  Will. 

Sometimes,  however,  Desire  is  said  to  be  the  opposite  of 
volition.  Thus  Bain  says  that  we  only  desire  what  we  cannot 
get.  "  Desire  is  the  state  of  mind  where  there  is  a  motive  to 
act  without  the  ability,  ...  a  transformation  of  the 
Will  proper,  undergone  in  circumstances  where  the  act  does 
not  immediately  follow  the  motive."  We  submit  that  a  trans- 
formation of  volition  into  non-volition  needs  some  other  ex- 
planation. 


Definitions  and  Distinctions.  275 

This  contradiction  is  reconciled  by  the  distinction  between 
Volition  and  Choice.  If  volition  is  merely  executive,  only  re- 
sulting in.  external  actions,  then  Desire  may  properly  be  the 
name  of  the  preceding  state,  inseparable  from  volition.  I  de- 
sire to  move  my  hand,  and  the  motion  immediately  follows. 
Volitions  would  then  be  properly  called  "  desires  which  con- 
summate themselves."  But  if  volition  is  a  rational  or  moral 
choice,  then  several  desires  miy  be  presented  to  the  mind,  the 
gratification  of  which  is  the  end  of  action  or  motive,  and 
among  them  the  mind  will  select  that  one  which,  all  things 
considered,  seems  to  it  the  most  desirable.  Desire,  on  this 
theory,  is  a  necessary  pre-requisite  of  volition,  not  as  a  cause 
but  as  furnishing  the  objects  of  choice.  Thus  Dr.  Brown  and 
Dr.  Bain  have  attempted  to  join  the  first  meaning  of  volition 
with  the  second  meaning  of  desire,  and  the  result  is  confusion. 

The  broad  meaning  of  the  term  Desire  in  connection  with 
the  will,  suggests  that  mentioned  under  Feeling,  as  generic  de- 
sire, the  sum  of  all  the  desires,  the  desire  of  happiness,  or  of 
"good."  The  full  definition  of  Good  belongs  to  the  science 
of  ethics.  But  the  term  Happiness  may  properly  be  used  as 
including  all  possible  good,  whether  of  the  agent  or  any  other 
sentient  being,  and  so  be  the  sum  of  all  rational  ends.  The 
only  rational  supreme  choice,  then,  is  a  determination  to  seek 
the  happiness,  in  the  highest  sense,  of  all  sentient  beings. 
Now,  this  does  not  mean  what  Herbert  Spencer  calls  "pure 
altruism,"  that  is,  excessive,  irrational,  and  useless  self-sacrifice. 
Mr.  Spencer  has  most  ingeniously  shown,  from  the  objective 
side,  what  indeed  is  generally  admitted,  that  such  self-efface- 
ment is  positively  immoral.  A  rational  choice  must  of  course 
be  rationally  carried  out.  Popular  language  recognizes  this 
truth.  For  when  a  man  devotes  himself  unselfishly  to  trifling 
ends,  and  spends  his  life  for  what  is  intended  for  the  good  of 
others  but  is  important  only  in  his  own  eyes,  we  call  him  a  fa- 


276  The  Will. 

natic  or  a  lunatic.  Yet  popular  language  also  recognizes  the 
other  side  of  the  truth;  for  when  a  man  acts  for  self  alone, 
with  no  altruistic  ends,  we  call  him  selfish,  worldly,  mean,  mis- 
anthropical, criminal,  according  to  the  degree  of  outwardness 
with  which  he  acts  out  his  principle  of  life.  But  when  a  man 
adopts  the  sublime  end  of  the  highest  good  of  his  race  or  na- 
tion, and  pursues  it  amid  the  seductions  of  pleasure  and  the 
threats  of  power,  we  call  him  a  hero,  a  saint,  a  martyr, — even 
though  he  make  mistakes  and  failures. 

Now,  is  such  a  rational  choice  possible  ?  We  affirm  that  it 
is.  Yet  we  admit  that  vast  numbers  of  human  beings  never 
make  this  choice,  but  live  a  life  of  habit  and  association  and 
mere  volition  in  accordance  with  desire,  or  even  a  life  of  posi- 
tive selfishness  and  injustice.  Indeed,  if  the  Will  be  nothing 
but  executive  volition,  they  must  live  thus,  and  all  higher  en- 
deavors are  an  illusion.  We  admit,  moreover,  that  many  who 
think  they  have  chosen  this  highest  end,  nevertheless  do  not 
consistently  perform  all  the  subordinate  volitions  which  logi- 
cally belong  to  their  choice.  The  urgency  of  desire  misleads 
the  intellect,  and  they  make  mistakes;  or  overwhelms  the 
determination  and  they  suspend  the  supreme  choice.  But 
that  man  can  rationally  choose  an  end  beyond  his  own 
individual  happiness,  the  satisfaction  of  his  own  desires,  may 
be  shown  by  various  considerations.  We  mention  three  of 
the  most  important.  .     . 

1.  Consciousness.  We  directly  know  that  we  can  take  for 
our  end,  in  any  definite  course  of  action,  or  in  the  conduct  of 
life,  the  good  of  others  or  of  the  universe.  This  is  denied  by 
some,  and  of  course  we  cannot  disprove  their  denial  concern- 
ing their  own  consciousness.  But  there  is  another  argument 
from  consciousness. 

2.  We  are  conscious  of  the  obligation  to  act  unselfishly,  hence 
such  action  must  be  possible.     This  is  the  celebrated  argument 


Freedom  of  the  Will.  277 

of  Kant,  which  he  applies  to  free-will.  We  are  not  concerned 
here  with  the  nature  or  reality  of  obligation,  subjects  which  be- 
long to  ethics.  But  certainly  the  consciousness  of  obligation  is 
a  great  fact  in  human  nature,  which  cannot  be  explained 
away. 

3.  Experience  of  human  life  exhibits  many  actions  per- 
formed without  hope  of  reward,  or  even  under  the  certainty  of 
death,  through  adherence  to  a  lofty  Ideal,  and  pursuit  of  ends 
outside  of  self.  For  example,  a  foreign  missionary  can  hardly 
have  any  selfish  motives  for  going  abroad.  Yet  the  heathen, 
for  whose  benefit  he  goes,  have  great  difficulty  in  believing  that 
his  motive  is  altruistic,  and  are  only  slowly  convinced  that  such 
a  thing  is  possible.  For,  in  their  state  of  moral  degradation, 
they  have  little  experience  of  such  actions.  A  Christian  civili- 
zation, however,  should  afford  many  such  instances. 


FREEDOM  OF  THE  WILL. 


The  time-honored  phrase,  "Freedom  of  the  Will,"  should  be 
avoided  as  much  as  possible,  though  it  has  been  used  by  so 
many  writers  that  the  student  must  become  familiar  with  it. 
Some  of  the  objections  to  it  are:— 

1 .  It  seems  to  imply  that  a  will  may  be  enslaved  or  not  free. 
But  in  fact  Will  means  freedom.  A  mere  necessary  sequence 
of  events  from  perception  to  desire  and  from  desire  to  execu- 
tive volition  is  not  Will.  The  phrase  Free-will  is  thus  a  pleo- 
nasm. This  confusion  arises  from  using  the  term  Will  in  the 
sense  of  physical  execution,  as  well  as  of  volition  in  the  true 
sense. 

2.  It  seems  to  imply  that  man's  will  may  be  free,  and  the 


278  .    The  Will. 

rest  of  his  nature  not  free,  though  what  is  really  meant  is  that 
the  Will  is  the  ruling  power  of  the  mind,  and  if  that  is  free  the 
man  is  free.  It  is  better  to  speak  of  human  freedom,  or  the 
freedom  of  man.  The  real  question  is, — Is  man  capable  of  a 
rational  choice,  and,  if  so,  how?  Our  previous  discussions 
have  led  the  way  up  to  this  question,  so  that  we  have  only  to 
unfold  the  true  doctrine  on  this  subject  from  the  definitions 
and  distinctions  already  given.  We  shall  first  examine  the  ap- 
plication of  the  more  important  of  these  distinctions  to  some 
errors,  objections,  and  questions. 

I.     FREEDOM  AND  CAUSATION. 

The  most  important  recent  objections  to  the  doctrine  of 
Freedom  spring  from  the  modern  scientific  views  concerning 
causation.  Science  declares  that  every  event  must  have  a 
cause;  but  in  seeking  a  cause  for  a  physical  change  it  really 
seeks  a  force  which  will  account  for  that  change,  and,  by  the 
grand  truth  of  the  correlation  of  forces,  it  is  often  enabled  to 
trace  causal  force  in  ways  until  recently  unknown  and  incredi- 
ble. This  correlation  has  been  traced  in  the  muscular  move- 
ments of  animals.  If  it  be  asked,  what  causes  the  movement 
of  my  arm,  the  answer  must  be,  that  the  force  is  supplied  by 
the  transformation  of  stored-up  chemical  energy  in  my  food 
into  mechanical  energy  in  my  arm.  Volition  does  not  supply 
this  force,  and  to  a  certain  extent  the  force  would  discharge  it- 
self spontaneously,  as  in  the  play  of  young  animals.  But  in  an 
ordinary  movement  the  signal  for  the  discharge  of  muscular 
force  is  given  by  an  impulse  along  the  motor  nerves.  This 
impulse  originates  in  a  state  of  one  part  or  another  of  the 
brain,  or  spinal  cord,  or  the  ganglia.  For  example,  if  a  gun  be 
unexpectedly  discharged  near  me,  I  start  or  "jump,"  without 
volition.  A  part  of  the  nerve-impulse  received  is  diverted  to 
the  spinal  cord  and  causes  a  reflex  movement,  while  another 


Freedom  of  the  Will.  279 

part  reaches  the  cerebrum  and  occasions  a  sensation  of  sound. 
But  in  an  ordinary  movement  the  impulse  originates  in  a  state 
of  the  brain,  and  this  state  may  have  an  immediate  cause,  in 
sensation,  or  may  be  the  result  of  an  idea,  a  state  of  the  mind. 

The  term  volition  ought  to  be  restricted  to  this  part  of  the 
process,  namely,  the  state  of  the  mind.  For  how  this  state  of 
the  mind  occasions  a  state  of  the  brain  is  unknown  and  in- 
scrutable, as  in  the  reverse  cases  of  sensation  and  feeling. 
And  the  lower  part  of  the  process  is  wholly  mechanical.  But 
we  cannot  hope  to  so  restrict  the  term,  for  it  is  much  used  with 
reference  to  muscular  movements,  especially  by  materialistic 
writers.  Thus,  Ribot  has  diligently  collected  a  large  number 
of  very  interesting  cases  of  what  he  calls  diseases  of  volition. 
But  they  are  nearly  all  cases  of  partial  or  total  paralysis  of 
certain  motor  nerves,  often  complicated  with  disease  of  the 
brain. 

Now  many  writers  carry  this  idea  of  physical  causation  over 
into  the. mind,  and  declare  that  a  state  of  the  mind  is  an  event 
which  requires  a  cause  just  as  a  state  of  brain  or  muscle  does. 
Lotze  meets  this  objection  by  a  simple  denial  that  the  reign  of 
causation  is  universal.  He  gives  the  first  coming  into  being 
of  atoms  of  matter,  and  their  original  atomic  vibration,  as  in- 
stances of  events  which  cannot  be  caused.  Physical  science 
takes  these  for  granted,  and  only  attempts  to  account  for  the 
changes  which  now  occur.  "The  objection  that  freedom  is 
an  exception  to  the  causal  nexus  which  rules  elsewhere  through- 
out the  entire  universe,  rests  on  the  groundless  assumption  that 
complete  uniformity  must  necessarily  reign  in  the  dependence 
of  the  whole  universe.  Investigation  of  the  moral  world  seems 
to  lead  just  as  necessarily  to  the  conception  of  freedom,  as  in- 
vestigation of  nature  leads  to  the  conception  of  causal  nexus. 
If  we  begin  with  causal  nexus  we  of  course  shall  find  no  place 
for  freedom.     But  if  we  begin  with  a  persuasion  that  free  ac- 


280  The  Will. 

tivities  do  really  have  place  in  the  world,  we  are  obliged  to  as- 
sume also  the  causal  nexus.  For  Will  cannot  bring  about  its 
purpose  unless  it  can  rely  upon  fixed  and  definite  circumstan- 
ces with  which  its  operations  can  be  carried  on."  (Dictate, 
practisehe  Philosophic,  §21.) 

This  is  made  still  clearer,  we  think,  by  the  distinction  be- 
tween executive  and  generic  volitions.  Freedom  belongs  to 
rational  choice,  executive  volitions  are  necessitated.  "  What 
we  need  to  know  is  the  point  of  freedom.  That  is  in  choice, 
and  in  that  only.  Choice  being  once  fully  made,  volition  fol- 
lows of  course.  It  may  not  follow  at  once;  the  choice  may  abide 
alone,  but  when  the  volition  comes  it  is  born  of  choice.  .  . 
.  .  The  one  is  the  essential  element  of  freedom  manifest- 
ing itself  in  the  spiritual  realm,  and  is  the  immediate  object  ot 
the  divine  government;  the  other  simply  instrumental  and  exec- 
utive, and  is  that  of  which  human  governments  chiefly  take 
cognizance.  And  in  connection  with  these  two  elements,  of 
Will,  the  one  free  and  the  other  necessitated,  we  may  see  the 
harmony  there  is  between  freedom  and  necessity,  and  the  need 
of  necessity  in  order  to  freedom.  If  the  freedom  is  to  result 
in  responsibility,  or  is  to  avail  anything  with  respect  to  conduct, 
there  must  be  in  connection  with  it  a  system  of  necessity.  A 
man  stands  by  a  stream  of  water.  He  has  the  power  to  turn  it 
in  this  direction  for  the  purpose  of  irrigation,  or  in  that  for  the 
purpose  of  destruction,  and  this  power  he  has,  with  the  at- 
tendant responsibility,  simply  because  the  stream  is  subject  to 
invariable  and  necessary  law.  If  he  could  not  control  it  by 
such  a  law,  he  could  not  know  what  the  consequences  would 
be,  and  would  not  be  responsible  for  them.  Hence  the  region 
of  freedom  is  wholly  conditioned  on  the  regions  of  necessity, 
physical,  vital,  and  intellectual."  (Hopkins,  Outline  Study 
of  Man,  225.) 

The  modern  advocates  of  necessity  strengthen  their  position 


t 

Freedom  of  the  Will.  281 

by  reference  to  the  admitted  uniformity  of  human  action. 
"  The  prediction  of  human  conduct,"  says  Bain,  "  is  not  less 
sure  than  the  prediction  of  physical  phenomena."  Mr.  Buckle, 
that  eloquent  and  dashing  writer,  made  much  of  this  line  of 
argument,  relying  upon  the  statistics  of  crime,  suicide,  etc. 
So  far  as  this  argument  refers  to  rational  action,  it  rests  upon  the 
pre-supposition  that  conduct  which  is  not  necessitated  must  be 
capricious  and  unreasonable.  But  in  fact,  the  exact  opposite  is 
plainly  true.  Rational  action  is  the  least  capricious  of  all  ac- 
tion, and  in  proportion  as  action  is  rational  will  it  be  certainly 
the  same  in  the  same  circumstances.  If  we  can  predict  what 
a  man  will  do  in  certain  circumstances,  it  is  because  we  know 
his  dominant  or  supreme  choice,  his  governing  purpose,  his 
character.  If  he  has  an  established  truthful  character  we  say 
"he  cannot  lie,"  and  this  is  called  moral  inability,  and  much 
discussion  has  been  expended  upon  it.  If  we  know  that  a 
man's  dominant  choice  is  to  have  no  rational  volition,  but  to  be 
guided  by  the  solicitations  of  appetite,  we  predict  his  actions  as 
we  would  those  of  a  horse  or  a  dog,  with  no  less  certainty,  and 
no  more,  for  he  is  on  the  same  level,  and  leads  the  same  kind 
of  life.  And  of  course  there  will  be  a  good  deal  of  uniformity 
in  his  actions.  Or,  if  we  know  that  his  supreme  choice  is  to 
obey  the  law  of  God,  we  may  yet  inquire  into  the  operations  of 
his  intellect,  how  he  understands  that  law,  before  we  feel  like 
predicting  his  conduct. 

The  necessarian  says,  "you  cannot  act  otherwise  than  you  do; 
your  conduct  is  the  result  of  motives  which  arouse  your  feel- 
ing and  thus  determine  your  will."  The  older  advocates  of 
freedom  replied,  "yes  I  can  act  otherwise  than  I  do;  I  am  free 
in  every  action,  in  each  executive  volition;  I  have  power  of 
contrary  choice  in  them  all."  But  most  of  the  recent  advo- 
cates of  freedom  would  reply,  "  I  know  that  my  executive 
volitions    are  in   large    measure   dependent  on  my  character, 


282  The  Will. 

and  habits,  and  previous  volitions,  and  circumstances,  and  the 
influence  of  motives.  But  this  character,  and  these  habits, 
and  the  subjective  value  of  these  motives,  are  greatly  modified 
by  my  previous  rational  and  moral  choices,  and  above  all  by 
my  supreme  choice,  and  this  I  know  was  freely  made."  Thus 
the  distinction  of  executive,  intermediate,  and  supreme  voli- 
tions, a  distinction  chiefly  elaborated  by  the  New  England 
theologians,  has  thrown  more  light  on  the  doctrine  of  the  Will 
than  any  other  modern  discovery. 

II.     FREEDOM  AND  THE  SOUL. 

Most  of  the  arguments  against  Freedom  rest  on  the  assump- 
tion that  the  mind  or  soul  is  a  thing,  subject  to  ordinary  cau- 
sation, having  material  qualities,  inert  in  itself,  and  only  aroused 
into  action  by  the  causative  force  of  motives.  This  view 
would  in  consistency  require  the  denial  of  moral  responsibility. 
Many  of  these  writers  are  not  willing  to  purchase  consistency 
at  such  a  price;  but  Dr.  Bain  goes  all  lengths,  and  says, 
"The  term  responsibility  is  a  figurative  expression  of  the  kind 
called  'metonomy'  where  a  thing  is  named  by  some  of  its 
causes,  effects,  or  adjuncts,  as  when  the  crown  is  put  for  royalty, 
or  the  mitre  for  episcopacy."     (The  Emotions  and  The  Will.) 

We  have  already  argued  (pp.  198-207),  that  the  mind  is  not 
a  material  thing.  The  mind  is,  in  truth,  a  self-active  entity,  a 
person.  But  when  it  acts  it  must  act  in  some  particular  way, 
must  do  what  is  within  its  power,  must  act  under  the  limita- 
tions of  its  nature  and  of  its  situation  in  a  world  of  matter,  and 
a  world  of  other  beings  like  itself.  It  may  pursue  rational 
ends,  and  this  is  freedom;  it  may  select  suitable  means  to  at- 
tain them,  and  this  is  wisdom;  it  may  select  unfit  means  or  in- 
termediate volitions,  and  this  we  call  foolishness.  Or,  it  may 
choose  not  to  pursue  rational  ends  at  all,  but  select  only  among 
the  inferior  ends  of  pleasure,  and  the   animal  life,  and  the 


Freedom  of  the  Wiol.  283 

social  state;  and  this  is  to  abdicate  freedom,  to  give  one's  self 
up  to  the  "  slavery  of  the  will."  The  majority  of  human  beings 
seem  to  live  thus. 

The  reason  why  the  mind  acts  is  unknowable;  it  is  its  nature 
to  do  so.  Volition  or  choice  is  the  activity  of  such  a  spirit  in 
view  of  certain  ends,  among  which  it  can  choose.  It  does  not 
decide  blindly;  such  a  decision  would  not  be  a  responsible  one. 
It  does  not  decide  groundlessly;  such  a  decision  would  not  be 
rational.  It  decides  in  view  of  the  Good;  but,  "if  the  motive, 
even  of  Good,"  says  Lotze,  '•'  had  a  mechanically  operating 
power  to  produce  a  decision,  this  decision  would  be  a  natural 
product,  devoid  of  responsibility  or  moral  judgment."  (Op. 
cit.  §  22.)  Will,  then,  has  its  existence  among  motives  as  a 
bird  floats  on  the  air.  or  a  fish  in  the  water.  They  are  the 
conditions  of  its  being,  for  Will  is  this  department  of  the 
activity  of  the  soul,  namely,  as  related  to  ends  or  motives. 

Even  Edwards  seems  to  have  thought  of  the  soul  as  a  thing, 
under  the  dominion  of  motives  in  a  causal  nexus.  His  illustra- 
tions, when  arguing  from  necessity,  are  drawn  from  external  ac- 
tions and  physical  causation.  His  very  definition  of  freedom 
seems  to  imply  this.  He  says  a  man  is  free  when  he  is  at  liberty 
to  act  as  he  pleases,  under  no  external  restraint.  Such  freedom 
should  rather  be  called  physical,  or  social,  x)r  political  freedom, 
not  rational.  An  act  of  rational  choice  may  have  no  relation 
whatever  to  external  restraint.  If  a  man  choose  to  worship 
God  in  his  heart,  force  cannot  alter  his  choice.  Threats  of 
torture  or  actual  pain  may  cause  him  to  conceal  his  choice  or 
deny  it,  they  cannot  affect  the  choice  itself.  Only  rational 
motives  can  do  that. 

It  should  be  remembered,  however,  in  quoting  or  reading 
Edwards  on  the  Will,  that  it  is  not  a  complete  theory.  Its 
title  is,  "  An  Inquiry  into  the  Modern  Prevailing  Notions  of 
that  Freedom  of  the  Will  which  is  supposed  to  be  essential  to 


284  The  Will. 

moral  agency,  virtue  and  vice,  reward  and  punishment,  praise 
and  blame."  It  was  an  attack  on  the  Arminian  doctrine  of 
the  "  Liberty  of  Indifference."  In  the  specific  task  which  he 
had  set  himself  he  was  successful;  but  many  of  his  arguments 
are  exceedingly  abstract,  and  some  of  them  are  now  seen  to 
be  mere  logical  puzzles.  Liberty  of  Indifference  is  usually  un- 
derstood to  mean,  "a  power  to  determine  in  opposition  to  all 
motives,  or  in  absence  of  any  motive."  The  usual  argument 
now  used  against  it  is  to  show  that  it  is  not  rational.  "  A  being 
with  this  kind  of  liberty  would  not  be  a  reasonable  being;  and 
an  action  done  without  a  motive  is  an  action  done  without  an 
end  in  view,  that  is,  without  intention  or  design,  and,  in  that 
respect,  could  not  be  called  a  moral  action."  (Fleming,  Moral 
Philosophy,  191.) 

The  truth  that  the  soul  has  original  activity  of  its  own  may 
be  so  stated  as  to  lead  to  a  curious  complication.  Thus,  if  we 
say  that  it  originates  one  of  its  own j  states  by  our  act  of  will, 
then  it  may  be  replied  that  this  act  of  will  must  be  caused  by  a 
previous  state  of  will,  and  so  on  in  an  infinite  series.  Or,  as 
Edwards  expressed  it,  "  If  the  will  determines  itself,  it  must  be 
by  an  antecedent  volition,  that  volition  again  must  be  deter- 
mined by  another  going  before  it,  and  so  on  in  an  infinite 
series."  The  best  escape  from  this  puzzle  seems  to  be  to  drop 
the.  phrase  "act  of  will"  and  substitute  "act  of  mind."  The 
mind  acts  as  Will  when  it  acts  in  the  sphere  of  motives,  and  in 
so  acting  it  determines  its  state,  we  may  say,  to  be  a  state  of 
choice.  But  this  determination  is  not  its  purpose,  any  more 
than,  in  perceiving,  the  mind  as  intellect  determines  itself  to  a 
state  of  perceiving.  When  we  say  the  Will  determines  itself, 
that  is  only  a  roundabout  way  of  saying  that  the  mind  acts,  as 
Will,  among  motives,  that  is,  acts  rationally. 


Freedom  of  the  Will.  285 


III.  FREEDOM  AND  GOD'S  FOREKNOWLEDGE. 

Those  who  believe  that  God  foresees  all  events  have  ex- 
perienced great  difficulty  in  reconciling  this  truth  with  the 
doctrine  of  human  freedom.  The  argument  for  necessity 
drawn  from  the  divine  foreknowledge  was  strongly  pressed  by 
Edwards.     His  argument  is  contained  in  three  divisions. 

1.  After  proving  from  the  Bible  that  God  already  knows 
all  future  events,  Edwards  says  that  this  foreknowledge,  being 
already  fixed  and  certain,  is  necessary;  and  hence  all  events 
indissolubly  connected  with  it  are  necessary;  but  the  volitions 
of  moral  agents  being  certainly  foreknown,  are  thus  connected 
with  this  foreknowledge,  and  hence  are  necessary. 

Reply  has  been  made  to  this  argument  on  the  ground  that 
certainty  and  necessity  are  quite  different  things.  This  was 
well  stated  by  Dr.  T.  Reid.  "  I  know  no  rule  of  reasoning 
by  which  it  can  be  inferred  that  because  an  event  certainly 
shall  be,  therefore  its  production  must  be  necessary.  The 
manner  of  its  production,  whether  free  or  necessary,  cannot  be 
concluded  from  the  time  of  its  production,  whether  it  be  past, 
present,  or  future.  That  it  shall  be,  no  more  implies  that  it 
shall  be  necessarily,  than  that  it  shall  be  freely  produced;  for 
neither  past,  present,  nor  future  have  any  more  connection 
with  necessity  than  with  freedom.  I  grant,  therefore,  that  from 
events  being  foreseen,  it  may  justly  be  concluded  they  are  cer- 
tainly future,  but  from  their  being  certainly  future,  it  does  not 
follow  that  they  are  necessary."     (Active  Powers,  Essay  IV.) 

President  Day  detected,  in  the  argument  a  double  meaning 
of  the  term  Necessity.  "  As  some  have  made  the  liberty  of 
the  will  to  consist  in  a  freedom  from  the  determining  influence 
of  motives;  so  to  be  subject  to  such  motives,  they  have  called 
necessity.  But  if  a  man  can  be  determined,  by  motives,  to 
19 


286  The  Will. 

will  in  a  particular  way,  this  does  not  imply  that  he  is  induced 
to  will  against  his  will.  The  use  of  a  term  in  so  different  and 
in  some  respects,  opposite  senses,  is  the  occasion  of  number- 
less misapprehensions.  According  to  some  philosophers,  the 
dependence  of  our  volitions  upon  anything  preceding  is  neces- 
sity; whereas,  in  common  language,  the  want  of  dependence 
of  our  actions  upon  our  volitions,  is  what  is  called  necessity. 
Why  should  necessity,  in  the  one  case,  signify  dependence, 
and  in  the  other,  the  opposite  of  dependence.  Liberty  and 
necessity  are  generally  understood  to  be  inconsistent  with  each 
other.  But  if  very  diverse  meanings  are  given  to  both  these 
terms,  it  is  not  certain  that  every  kind  of  liberty  is  inconsist- 
ent with  everything  which  any  one  may  choose  to  call  neces- 
sity."    (Day  on  the  Will,  89.) 

President  Tappan  compared  this  argument  of  Edwards  to  a 
logical  puzzle,  and  illustrated  it  as  follows:  "  A  man  in  a  given 
place  must  necessarily  either  stay  in  that  place  or  go  away  from 
that  place;  therefore,  whether  he  stays  or  goes  away,  he  acts 
necessarily.  Now,  it  is  necessary,  in  the  nature  of  things,  that 
a  man  should  be  in  some  place;  but  then  it  does  not  follow 
from  this  that  his  determination,  whether  to  stay  or  go,  is  a 
necessary  determination.  His  necessary  condition  as  a  body 
is  entirely  distinct  from  the  question  respecting  the  necessity 
or  contingency  of  his  volitions.  And  so  also  in  respect  of  the 
divine  foreknowledge;  all  human  volitions  are  subject  to  the 
necessary  condition  of  being  foreknown  by  that  Being  '  who 
inhabiteth  eternity; '  but  this  necessary  condition  of  their  ex- 
istence neither  proves  nor  disproves  the  necessity  or  the  con- 
tingency of  their  particular  causation."  (Review  of  Edwards' 
Inquiry,  255.) 

2.  But  Edwards  proceeds,  in  the  second  division  of  his  ar- 
gument, to  affirm  that  the  method  of  the  divine  foreknowledge 
must    necessarily  be,  like  all   other   knowledge,  through   evi- 


Freedom  of  the  Will.  287 

dence.  "For  a  "thing  to  be  certainly  known  to  any  under- 
standing, is  for  it  to  be  evident  to  that  understanding;  and  for 
a  thing  to  be  evident  to  any  understanding,  is  the  same  as  for 
that  understanding  to  see  evidence  of  it;  but  no  understanding, 
created  or  uncreated,  can  see  evidence  where  there  is  none. 
And  therefore,  if  there  be  any  truth  which  is  absolutely  with- 
out evidence,  that  truth  is  absolutely  unknowable,  insomuch 
that  it  implies  a  contradiction  to  suppose  that  it  is  known. 
But  if  there  be  any  future  event,  whose  existence  is  contingent, 
without  all  necessity,  the  future  existence  of  the  event  is  abso- 
lutely without  evidence."     (Inquiry,  Part  II,  ch.  12.) 

On  this  theory,  God  foresees  that  a  man  will  perform  cer- 
tain actions,  because  He  knows  the  constitution  of  that  man's 
mind  and  the  motives  which  will  be  brought  to  bear  upon  it; 
in  other  words,  He  has  the  same  kind  of  knowledge  of  future 
events  that  men  have,  and  no  other.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  this  kind  of  foreknowledge  is  inconsistent  with  free- 
dom. But  the  usual  reply  to  the  argument  is  that  it  assumes 
too  much  information  on  our  part  as  to  the  methods  of  God's 
knowledge. 

How  can  God  know  all  that  is  going  on  in  the  world  at  any 
given  moment?  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  conceive  the 
method  of  it,  or  to  know  anything  about  such  a  matter.  Nay, 
— we  cannot  even  conceive  how  a  man  knows  a  single  event, 
going  on  before  him.  All  knowledge  is  inexplicable  to  us. 
The  method  of  the  divine  foreknowledge  may  be,  for  aught  we 
know,  a  direct  intuition  for  which  time  does  not  exist,  no  more 
involving  necessity  in  the  event  foreknown,  than  our  knowledge 
of  any  event  at  the  present  moment  makes  that  event  nec- 
essary. 

3.  Edwards  argues  in  the  third  place  that  to  suppose  that 
God  foreknows  contingent  events,  is  to  make  his  knowledge 
inconsistent  with  itself.     For  if  he  infallibly  knows  that  a  thing 


288  The  Will. 

will  be,  which  yet  may  not  be  (for  this  is  implied  in  contin- 
gency), then  he  knows  it  to  be  both  necessary  and  contingent 
at  the  same  time.  As  this  argument  is  made  up  out  of  the 
other  two,  so  the  replies  to  those  are  equally  good  here.  God 
has  endowed  man  with  liberty;  man  will  therefore  certainly 
will,  and  will  freely;  but  God  may  yet  foreknow  his  volitions, 
without  thereby  taking  away  his  freedom. 

Many  able  men  have  been  content  to  accept  both  these 
doctrines,  though  apparently  contradictory,  each  on  its  own 
evidence,  and  seek  for  no  reconciliation.  Thus  John  Locke 
said  in  one  of  his  letters, — "  I  cannot  make  freedom  in  man 
consistent  with  omnipotence  and  omniscience  in  God,  though 
I  am  as  fully  persuaded  of  both  as  of  any  truths  I  most  fully 
assent  to." 

DIRECT  ARGUMENTS  FOR  FREEDOM. 

The  usual  direct  arguments  in  favor  of  Freedom  are  drawn 
from  consciousness,  and  may  be  either  direct  or  indirect. 

I.    DIRECT    TESTIMONY    OF    CONSCIOUSNESS. 

It  is  usually  said  that  we  are  directly  conscious  of  freedom. 
Some  writers  make  this  a  first  truth,  a  condition  of  all  thought. 
Descartes  said, — "  It  is  so  manifest  that  we  possess  a  free  will^ 
capable  of  giving  or  withholding  its  assent,  that  this  truth  must 
be  reckoned  among  the  first  and  most  common  notions  which 
are  born  with  us."  Bishop  Butler  said, — "  It  may  justly  be 
concluded,  that  since  the  whole  process  of  action,  through 
every  step  of  it,  suspense,  deliberation,  inclining  one  way,  de- 
termining, and  at  last  doing  as  we  determine,  is  as  if  we  were 
free,  — therefore  we  are  so."  And  Kant  said, — "Whatever  in- 
dividual cannot,  from  the  constitution  of  his  nature,  but  act 
under  the  idea'of  freedom,  is,  on  that  very  account,  in  a  prac- 
tical relation  free." 


Freedom  of  the  Will.  289 

Dr.  McCosh  says, — "  I  claim  for  the  mind  a  power  to  choose, 
and,  when  it  chooses,  a  consciousness  that  it  might  choose 
otherwise.  This  truth  is  revealed  to  us  by  immediate  con- 
sciousness, and  is  not  to  be  set  aside  by  any  other  truth  what- 
ever. It  is  a  first  truth,  equal  to  the  highest,  to  none  of  which 
will  it  ever  yield.  Whatever  other  proposition  is  true,  this  is 
true  also,  that  man's  will  is  free."  But  on  this  use  of  the  term 
Consciousness,  see  page  80. 

The  belief  in  freedom  is  just  as  much  a  necessary  and  orig- 
inal principle  of  the  mind  as  the  belief  in  the  uniformity  of 
causation.  Hence  it  is  useless  to  argue  against  the  former  on 
the  basis  of  the  latter.  This  is  arraying  two  necessary  beliefs 
against  one  another.  Kant  has  worked  out  this  opposition  in 
one  of  his  antinomies  of  the  reason,  and  leaves  it  as  insoluble, 
though  elsewhere  he  argues  in  favor  of  human  freedom. 

Most  necessitarians  admit  the  belief  in  freedom  to  be  uni- 
versal, but  declare  it  to  be  an  illusion.  Spinoza  said  that  a 
stone  flying  through  the  air,  by  an  impulse  from  without,  would, 
if  it  had  consciousness,  believe  itself  to  be  flying  of  its  own 
free  will.  And  Schopenhauer  adds  that  the  stone  would  be 
right !  Leibnitz  said  that  for  man  to  declare  himself  free  is  as 
though  the  magnetic  needle  were  to  exult  in  pointing  to  the 
pole.  Many  similar  opinions  might  be  quoted  from  more  re- 
cent writers.  It  may  be  admitted  that  when  I  am  conscious  of 
power  to  the  contrary  in  my  external  conduct,  this  does  not 
prove  that  I  could  act  differently  under  all  the  circumstances; 
for  the  most  important  of  these  circumstances  is  my  previous 
generic  volition.  But  I  know  that  there  was  a  point  where  I 
made  a  free  choice  between  certain  rational  ends,  and  could 
have  chosen  differently.  "  Let  a  man  be  required  to  choose 
between  property  and  integrity,  and  he  knows  by  necessity, 
and  with  a  conviction  which  nothing  can  strengthen  and  which 
nothing  can  shake,  that  he  is  free  to  choose  either.     The  dis- 


290  The  Will. 

cussions  about  the  freedom  of  the  will  have  been  endless,  but 
nothing  has  ever  shaken  the  conviction  of  the  race  in  regard 
to  the  elementary  idea  of  freedom  as  involved  in  choice." 
(Hopkins,  Outline  Study,  231.) 

2.    INDIRECT    TESTIMONY    OF    CONSCIOUSNESS. 

The  great  argument  for  human  freedom  is  the  conviction  of 
obligation  and  responsibility.  We  have  an  irresistible  native 
conviction  that  we  are  morally  responsible  for  our  actions;  but 
we  cannot  be  responsible  for  our  actions  unless  we  are  free. 
The  associationalists  tell  us  in  vain  that  the  sense  of  respon- 
sibility and  the  feeling  of  remorse  are  illusions,  due  to  the 
conventions  of  society,  the  instructions  of  infancy,  the  re- 
straints of  public  opinion;  they  remain  ineradicable.  Doubt- 
less much  has  by  some  writers  been  attributed  to  moral  judg- 
ment which  was  really  due  to  convention,  education,  and  habit. 
But  a  distinction  may  usually  be  clearly  drawn  between  the 
two  classes  of  feelings.  Some  persons  may  feel  more  pain 
when  detected  in  misspelling  a  word  than  when  caught  in  a 
falsehood,  but  that  does  not  prove  that  the  two  pains  are  of 
the  same  origin.  We  believe  that  consciousness  makes  a  clear 
distinction  between,  for  example,  the  disappointment  one  feels 
at  not  attaining  some  desired  end,  the  indignation  that  arises 
on  being  cheated,  the  humiliation  of  having  forgotten  the  rules 
of  good  manners,  the  shame  of  being  found  out  in  a  crime, — 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  remorse  within  one's  own  soul  for 
wrong 'choices  known  only  to  the  soul  and  its  Maker.  The 
conventional  character  of  the  former  is  usually  dimly  recognized, 
while  the  profound  personal  nature  of  the  latter,  its  position  at 
the  very  center  of  being,  is  seldom  unrecognized. 

"  The  conceptions  of  praise  and  blame,  of  merit  and  guilt," 
says  Lotze,  "completely  lose  their  characteristic  meaning,  if  we 
apply  them  to  things  which  are  necessary.     If  these  concept 


Freedom  of  the  Will.  291 

tions  are  not  pure  hallucinations,  they  imply  freedom  to  choose 
between  two  possible  but  not  necessary  decisions." 

Dr.  Fleming  says,  "The  fact  that  a  power  has  been  given  to 
us  by  which  we  distinguish  between  right  and  wrong  implies 
that  we  have  liberty  to  use  it.  The  same  thing  is  implied  in 
the  sense  of  obligation  which  accompanies  the  perception  of 
the  distinction  between  right  and  wrong.  The  feelings  of  ap- 
probation and  disapprobation  which  we  experience  in  our  minds, 
the  sentiments  of  praise  and  blame  with  which  we  contemplate 
the  character  and  conduct  of  our  fellow-men,  and  the  ideas  of 
merit  and  demerit,  reward  and  punishment,  which  we  cannot 
help  entertaining  in  reference  to  ourselves  and  others,  all  pro- 
ceed upon  the  fact  that  man  has  been  endowed  with  some 
measure  of  active  power,  and  freedom  in  the  use  of  it."  And, 
we  would  add,  irrespective  of  the  origin  of  these  feelings,  sen- 
timents, and  ideas;  even  if  they  were  the  result  of  associa- 
tion, the  power  of  forming  them  would  imply,  it  seems  to  us, 
the  power  of  making  use  of  them. 

We  append  some  other  arguments  for  human  freedom. 

3.    UNIFORMITY    OF    HUMAN    ACTION. 

It  is  argued  that  all  law,  government,  society,  and  busi- 
ness proceed  on  the  supposition  of  human  freedom;  that  it 
would  be  absurd  to  command  or  forbid  certain  actions,  if  man 
were  not  free  to  do  or  forbear;  that  in  society  and  business  we 
always  expect  men  to  decide  rationally  and  freely  in  Tavor  of 
that  course  of  action  which  seems  best  to  them. 

But  this  argument  has  been  adopted  by  recent  writers  on 
the  other  side,  who  say  that  all  society,  law,  and  government 
depend  on  the  efficacy  of  motives;  that  the  law  affixes  a  pen- 
alty to  certain  actions  as  a  proper  -and  certain  means  of  pre- 
venting such  actions,  and  not  as  an  appeal  to  human  freedom. 
"All  human  institutions,  as  well  as  human  conduct,  are  practi- 


292  The  Will. 

cally  founded  on  a  recognition,  implicit  or  explicit,  of  the 
reign  of  law  in  the  province  of  mind;  education,  the  penal 
code,  social  regulations,  legislative  enactments,  rest  upon  this 
basis,  and  emancipation  from  their  sanctions  is  treated  as  crime 
or  insanity.  The  plain  design  of  these  enactments  is  to  con- 
strain people  to  act  in  a  certain  way,  by  supplying  the  motives 
which  shall  determine  the  will."  (Maudsley,  Physiology  of 
Mind,  411.) 

It  may  be  replied  to  this,  that  those  who  enact  these  laws 
and  regulations,  and  undertake  to  enforce  them,  are  at  least 
free  in  adopting  such  a  plan.  But  a  more  complete  answer 
has  been  suggested  already  in  the  remark  of  Dr.  Hopkins,  that 
executive  volitions  are  the  object  of  human  government,  while 
supreme  choices  are  the  object  of  divine  law.  The  latter  de- 
mands that  the  heart  be  right,  and  expects  the  actions  to  be 
right  in  consequence.  The  former  cannot  reach  the  heart,  but 
addresses  itself  only  to  the  external  volitions.  "There  will  be 
a  radical  difference  between  the  idea  of  freedom  as  consisting 
in  the  power  of  choice,  and  in  the  power  to  carry  out  our 
choices.  The  one  is  absolute,  and  so  belongs  to  us  that  to  be 
deprived  of  it  we  must  be  destroyed.  The  other  is  contingent, 
and  we  can  be  deprived  of  it  by  accident  or  disease,  or  by  the 
will  of  others."     (Hopkins.) 

The  common  herd  of  men  are  too  apt  to  abandon  the  privi- 
lege of  rational  choice,  and  permit  themselves  to  be  guided  by 
the  solicitations  of  immediate  desire.  Law  and  penalty  are  in- 
tended for  such.  Those  who  have  made  a  rational  supreme 
choice  and  continue  in  it  do  not  come  into  conflict  with  any 
reasonable  enactment.  It  is  thus  that  we  understand  Christ's 
declaration,  that  he  came  not  to  call  the  righteous  but  sinners 
to  repentance.  And  also  the  Apostle  Paul's  declaration,  "ye 
are  not  under  the  law,  but  under  grace."  "  But  now  we  are 
delivered  from  the  law,  that  being  dead  wherein  we  were  held; 


Freedom  of  the  Will.  293 

that  we  should  serve  in  newness  of  spirit,  and  not  in  the  old- 
ness  of  the  letter."  We  believe  also  that  the  great  Apostle 
recognized  the  two  kinds  of  volition.  "  I  delight  in  the  law  of 
God  after  the  inward  man;  but  I  see  another  law  in  my  mem- 
bers, warring  against  the  law  of  my  mind,  and  bringing  me 
into  captivity  to  the  law  of  sin  which  is  in  my  members." 
"  Israel,  which  followed  after  the  law  of  righteousness,  hath  not 
attained  to  the  law  of  righteousness.  Wherefore?  Because 
they  sought  it  not  by  faith,  but  as  it  were  by  the  works  of  the 
law."  There  is  a  deeper  obedience  and  morality  than  of  the 
outward  conduct;  it  is  that  of  the  heart. 

4.    POWER    OF    RATIONAL    CONDUCT. 

It  is  urged  that  man  is  free  because  he  has  the  power  to 
tbrm  and  carry  out  a  plan  or  system  of  conduct.  Dr.  Flem- 
ing says, — "The  thousands  who  have  wisely  formed  and 
steadily  kept  their  aim  through  life  are  so  many  witnesses  to 
prove  that  man  is  not  the  passive  subject  of  some  dark  and 
invincible  necessity,  but  that  his  happiness  and  misery  are  in 
his  own  hand,  and  that  he  has  not  only  understanding  to  dis- 
cern between  good  and  evil,  but  liberty  to  choose,  and  power 
to  adhere  to  that  choice,  till  it  be  carried  out  to  its  final  and 
happy  accomplishment."  Rational  volition  or  choice  implies 
freedom;  but  it  does  not  follow,  as  often  asserted,  that  because 
it  is  free  it  is  therefore  capricious,  arbitrary,  and  unreasonable. 
On  the  contrary,  as  we  have  already  shown,  rational  action  is 
necessarily  the  most  uniform,  reliable,  and  uncapricious  of  all 
action.  All  rational  beings,  if  they  use  their  privilege  and  act 
rationally,  would  act  precisely  alike  in  the  same  circumstances, 
provided  they  all  had  intellects  just  alike,  with  which  to  per- 
ceive motives  or  ends  of  action,  and  feelings  just  alike,  to  be 
aroused  by  them. 


294  The  Will. 

IV.     LIMITATIONS  OF  FREEDOM. 

The  limitations  of  Freedom  of  the  Will  which  are  usually 
mentioned  are  not  properly  limitations  of  choice,  but  rather 
restrictions  of  physical  or  social  action.  Free  agency  cannot 
be  complete  in  this  sense,  while  one  is  yet  under  the  rule  of 
his  parents,  or  when  he  is  in  the  power  of  a  tyrannical  govern- 
ment, or  when  disease  or  accident  has  prostrated  the  body  or 
impaired  the  brain.  Such  limitations  might  be  called  object- 
ive. 

The  real  limitations  of  choice  may  be  called  subjective. 
One  cannot  will  things  impossible,  choose  between  ends  not 
presented  to  the  intellect,  or  will  contradictions.  One  who  has 
abdicated  the  privilege  of  rational  choice  and  lived  long  with- 
out it,  has  strong  habits  and  associations  to  overcome  before  he 
can  enter  upon  a  new  rational  and  moral  life. 

A  curious  limitation  of  freedom  is  laid  down,  in  connection 
with  a  remarkable  and  important  admission,  by  Mr.  Malcolm 
Guthrie,  who,  though  he  has  written  three  volumes  against 
Herbert  Spencer,  is  himself  a  decided  evolutionist. 

"The  great  practical  question  is  this; — Has  man  the  power 
of  choice  amongst  motives?  Has  he  the  vaunted  power  of 
self-rule,  and  can  he  cultivate  it?  We  can  only  reply  that,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  some  have  it  and  some  have  it  not;  that  some 
have  it  in  some  respects  and  not  in  others.  As  a  matter  of 
possibility,  most  men  may  attain  in  a  considerable  degree  to 
the  power  of  self-rule  by  judicious  self-culture.  .  .  .  Some 
feeble  minds  and  nighty  or  impassioned  natures,  as  well  as 
idiots,  may  not  be  able  to  reach  it,  and  some  fools  may  lose  it 
after  they  have  got  it;  but  as  a  general  rule,  a  high  degree  of 
self-rule  may  by  most  people  be  attained,  and  the  possession  of 
it  is  for  the  most  part  happiness." 


Freedom  of  the  Will.  295 

We  believe  that  the  more  recent  and  more  reasonable  state- 
ments of  the  doctrine  of  freedom  are  receiving  recognition  and 
gaining  currency.  And  we  think  no  fair-minded  student  will 
deny,  after  examining  all  the  arguments,  that  the  materialistic 
determinism  of  such  writers  as  Maudsley  is  a  shallow  doctrine, 
which  can  never  account  for  the  facts  of  human  experience. 


Index. 


Absolute,  the,  109. 

Abstraction,  174.. 

Animals,  the  lower,  sensation  in, 
18  ;  vision  in,  34,  42  ;  judgment 
of  distance  by,  45  ;  consciousness 
in,  78  ;  intellect  of,  79  ;  knowl- 
edge of  space  by,  91;  knowledge 
of  time  by,  95  ;  knowledge  of 
identity-similarity  by,  114;  the 
nature  of  their  intelligence,  190; 
cannot  truly  reason,  179,  193 ; 
their  stupidity,  195*;  nature  of 
their  minds,  205. 

Animal  Spirits,  in  Descartes'  the- 
ory of  perception,  132. 

A  Priori  school,  85 ;  concepts, 
117. 

Aristotle,  sketch  of,  129  ;  on  the 
necessity  of  philosophy,  6 ;  on 
its  utility,  8  ;  definition  of  phi- 
losophy, 10  ;  on  the  qualities  of 
matter,  69  ;  association  of  ideas, 
155  ;  his  dictum  de  o?nni  et  uullo, 
181  ;  definition  of  the  syllogism, 
183  ;  curious  delusion  mentioned 
by,  186. 

Association  of  sensations,  23  ;  in 
hearing,  33  ;  in  vision,  47 ;  in 
muscular  sensation,  54 ;  in  local- 
ization, 56  ;  in  illusions,  58;  not 
the  source  of  the  causal  judg- 
ment, 103,  104  ;  not  the  agent 
in  perception,  125;  of  ideas,  154; 
law  of,  155  ;  often  called  induc- 
tion, 190 ;  forms  the  mental  life 
of  the  brutes,  193  ;  and  a  large 
part  of  the  life  of  men,  196. 

ASSOCIATIONAL   School,   I40. 


Attention,  64. 

Axiom  of  the  syllogism,  181  ;  of 
induction,  187. 

Bacon,  on  design   in  nature,  no. 

Bain,  sketch  of,  142  ;  on  the  men- 
tal faculties,  14  ;  discrimination, 
19  ;  tone  of  sensations,  20  ;  irri- 
tating smells,  25  ;  colloid  bodies, 
28;  perception  of  distance,  33, 
44,  47  ;  perception  of  form,  39, 
40  ;  binocular  vision,  49  ;  sense 
of  touchy  5 1  ;  muscular  sense, 
52  ;  feeling,  60  ;  causation,  101  ; 
uniformity  in  Nature,  102  ;  iden- 
tity and  similarity,  115,118;  the- 
ory of  perception,  143  ;  realism 
and  nominalism,  176  ;  the  syllo- 
gism, 183  ;  induction,  185  ;  uni- 
formity, 187. 

Bascom  (President  John),  on  the 
eyes  of  oysters,  18  ;  conscious- 
ness in  the  lower  animals,  78  ; 
their  knowledge  of  space,  91  ;  of 
time,  95  ;  they  have  no  need  of 
language,  192  ;  their  instincts 
unimprovable,  195. 

Berkeley,  sketch  of,  138  ;  theory 
of  vision,  24,  47  ;  of  matter,  73, 
139. 

Bowen  (Prof.  Francis),  on  the  ne- 
cessity of  philosophy,  5,6;  Kant's 
theory  of  space,  89  ;  Descartes, 
131  ;  Malebranche,  135. 

Bowne  (Prof.  B.  P.),  on  Kant's 
thing-in-itself,  74  ;  monism,  109; 
sensationalism,  120  ;  the  concept, 
175  ;  brain  and  mind,  204. 


Index. 


Brown,  sketch  of,  141  ;  on  the 
philosophical  spirit,  7;  the  ex- 
ternal world,  41  j  causation,  101, 
103,  104 ;  on  association  of 
ideas,  155. 

Calculus,  the  infinitesimal,   133. 

Calderwood,  definition  of  philos- 
ophy, 10  ;  of  sensation,  17  ;  of 
attention,  65;  on  identity,  116; 
definition  of  intuition,  122  ;  of 
imagination,  164;  induction,  185. 

Carpenter  (Dr.  W.  B.),  defini- 
tion of  sensation,  17,  18;  defini- 
tion of  perception,  22  ;  on  per- 
ception of  solidity,  46  ;  the  pseu- 
doscope,  47 ;  localization,  55, 
57  ;  attention,  66. 

Causation,  97-110. 

Classification,  173,  176. 

Cocker  (Prof.  B.  F.),  on  science 
and  philosophy,  6  ;  definition  of 
perception,  22  ;  on  conscious- 
ness, 84 ;  criteria  of  necessary 
principles,  124. 

CcenvEsthesis,  or  vital  sense,  130. 

Cognition,  necessary  elements  of, 
117. 

Colloid  state,  27. 

Color,  3-5  ;  color-blindness,  36. 

Compound  perceptions,  24. 

Comte      on  consciousness,  77. 

Conception,  170. 

Concept,  the,  174 ;  concepts,  176. 

CONCEPTUALISM,    1 79. 

Condtllac,  notice  of,  140. 

Consciousness,  74;  authority  of, 
80  ;  uses  of  the  term,  83. 

Criteria  of  necessary  principles, 
123. 

Deduction,  180. 

Descartes,  sketch  of,  131;  on  the 
qualities  of  matter,  69 ;  his 
"Cogito,  ergo  sum"  81. 

Design  in  nature,.  110. 

Direction,  perception  of,  43. 

Distance,  perception  of,  44. 

Drbal  (Dr.  M.  A.),  on  binocular 
vision,  48  ;  projection  of  sensa- 
tions, 57 ;  feeling  in  sensation, 
61  ;  attention,  64  ;  unity  of  the 
mind,  202. 


Dreams,  91,  159. 

Ego,  the,  76,  80. 

Empirical  School,  118,  140. 

Euken  (Prof.  Rudolph),  on  teleol- 
ogy, in  ;  necessary  elements  of 
cognition,  120. 

Experiental  philosophy,  140. 

Extension,  perception  of,  37. 

External  world,  knowledge  of, 
in  smell,  27  ;  in  taste,  29 ;  in 
hearing.  32  ;  in  vision,  39 ;  in 
touch,  51  ;  in  muscular  sensa- 
tion, 52. 

Eye,  the,  33,  44. 

Faculty,  defined,  12. 

Feeling  in  sensation,  59 ;  uses  of 
term  feeling,  60. 

Ferrier  (Prof.  James),  definition 
of  philosophy,  10;  his  system  of 
metaphysics,   75. 

FlSKE  (John),  on  causality,  102 ; 
similarity,  117;  Cosmic  Philoso- 
phy, 144';  on  induction,  186 ; 
the  gulf  between  matter  and 
mind,  205. 

Fleming  (Prof.  Wm.),  definition 
of  philosophy,  10  ;  of  sensation, 
17,  60 ;  on  Kant's  Theory  of 
Space,  88.  The  additions  to 
Fleming's  Vocabulary  of  Philos- 
ophy, by  Calderwood  and  Krauth, 
are  assigned  to  their  own  names. 

Forgetting,   150. 

Form,  perception  of  in  vision,  38. 

Fowler  (Prof.  Thomas),  on  in- 
duction, 185. 

Graham,  on  dialysis  and  the  col- 
loid state,  27. 

Hallucination,  59,  162. 

Hamilton  (Sir  William),  sketch 
of,  145  ;  on  the  value  of  philoso- 
phy, 8  ;  feeling  and  sensation, 
62  ;  qualities  of  matter,  71  ;  con- 
sciousness, 83  ;  space,  85,  89; 
causation,  101,  106;  relativity  of 
knowledge,  1 13;  intuition,  122; 
regulative  faculty,  123  ;  criterion 
of  necessary  principles,  124;  the- 
ories of  perception,  128;  on  as- 
sociation   of  ideas,    155;  imagi- 


Index. 


nation,  163  ;  his  axiom  of  the 
syllogism,  181. 

Hearing,  sense  of,  30. 

Helmholtz,  on  the  necessity  of 
philosophy,  5  ;  on  sound,  31. 

Herbart,  sketch  of,  134  ;  on  feel- 
ing in  sensation,  61  ;  space,  88  ; 
his  theory  of  perception,  134. 

Hobbes,  on  sensation,  18. 

Homer,  on  dreams,  160. 

Hopkins  (President  Mark),  on  the 
knowledge  of  the  external  world, 
41,  52  ;  causation,  103  ;  the  ax- 
iom of  induction,  189. 

Hume,  notice  of,  139  ;  on  sub- 
stance, 73  ;  causation,  101  ;  as- 
sociation, 155. 

Huxley,  on  sensation,  15  ;  com- 
bines materialism  and  pseudo- 
idealism,  140. 

Hypnotism,  162. 

Hypothesis,  167. 

Idealism,  128. 

Identity,  112. 

Illusions,  58. 

Imagination,  163. 

Induction,  185  ;  necessity  of  a 
general  term  for,  187  ;  often  con- 
fused with  associative  expecta- 
tion,  190. 

Instinct,  193. 

Intuitive  ideas,  117. 

Inversion  of  the  image  in  vision, 
42. 

Jevons,  on  the  concept,  175. 

Judgment,  172. 

Kant,  noticed,  139  ;  on  substance, 
73  ;  space,  88 ;  time,  93  ;  the 
Judgment,  171. 

Language,  consists  of  arbitrary 
symbols,  32  ;  how  fatr  necessary 
for  reasoning,  192. 

Law  of  Parcimony,  107. 

Le  Conte  (Prof.  Joseph),  on  the 
sensitive  spot  of  the  retina,  34 ; 
primary  colors,  36 ;  binocular 
vision,  46,  48. 

Leibnitz,  sketch  of,  133;  on  space, 
88 ;  his  monadology,  107 ;  his 
theodicy,  134. 


Lewes  (G.  II  ),  on  science  and 
philosophy,  6 ;  causation,  105  ; 
"inherited  intuitions,"  119;  in- 
duction, 189  ;  the  intellect  of  the 
lower  animals,  192 ;  language, 
192. 

Localization,  54.    ' 

Locke,  sketch  of,  136;  on  ideas, 
20  ;  qualities  of  matter,  70;  con- 
sciousness, 76  ;  space,  85  ;  iden- 
tity, 116;  "intuitive  ideas,"  117; 
theory  of  perception,  137  ;  on 
the  reasoning  power,  171. 

Logic,  origin  of,  130. 

Lotze,  sketch  of,  135  ;  definition 
of  philosophy,  etc.,  9  ;  use  of 
"natur-philosophie,"  10  ;  on 
sensation,  16,  19  ;  perception, 
22  ;  sense  of  taste,  28  ;  inverted 
image  in  vision,  43  ;  muscular 
sensation,  53  ;  feeling  in  sensa- 
tion, 61  ;  impenetrability,  72  ; 
qualities  of  matter,  74 ;  space, 
88,  89 ;  Herbart's  doctrine  of 
space,  88  ;  m-dimensional  space, 
90 ;  time,  63  ;  causation,  98  ; 
monism,  109  ;  identity  and  simi- 
larity, 112  ;  the  concept,  174-5  » 
universals,  177  ;  materialism, 
201  ;  unity  of  the  mind,  202  ; 
the  soul  a  monad,  206. 

Mahaffy  (Prof.  J.  P.),  on  Des- 
cartes, 1 3 1-2. 

Maine   de   Biran,  on   causation, 

io5-  .        , 

Malebranche,  notice  of,  135. 

Mansel,  definition  of  metaphysics, 
9;  of  the  syllogism,  183. 

Martineau  (Rev.  James),  on  per- 
ception, 22  ;  the  ignoble  senses, 
29. 

Mathematical  reasoning,  184. 

Matter,  qualities  of,  67  ;  essence 
of,  according  to  Descartes,  69  ; 
nature  of,  71,  134,  140,  201  ; 
knowledge  of,  127  ;  Mill's  defi- 
nition of,  142 ;  evolutionist  view 
of,  201. 

McCosh  (President  James),  on  cau- 
sation, 103  ;  relativity  of  knowl- 


Index. 


.  edge,  113;  Sir  Wm.  Hamilton, 
114;  conceptualism,  179;  uni- 
versals,  180. 

Mechanical  imagination,  168. 

Memory,  95,  147. 

Metaphysics,  defined,  8. 

Metempsychosis,  206. 

Mill  (James),  141. 

Mill  (John  Stuart),  sketch  of,  141 ; 
on  substance  and  attribute,  J 3; 
causation,  102  ;  uniformity,  103  ; 
relativity  of  knowledge,  113; 
necessary  principles,  119;  limits 
of  association,  120  ;  definition  of 
matter,  142  ;  his  axiom  of  the 
syllogism,    181  ;  induction,    185. 

Mind,  sensational  theory  of,  80, 
199  ;  unity  of,  202  ;  individual- 
ity, 203  ;  immateriality,  203  ; 
mind  and  brain,  204. 

monadology,  i07. 

Monism,  109,  207. 

Morris  (Prof.  Geo.  S.),  definition 
of  philosophy,  10  ;  on  Mr.  J.  S. 
Mill,  119. 

Muscular  sensation,  52. 

Necessary  elements  of  perception, 
84. 

Necessity,  the  criterion  of  "intui- 
tive ideas,"  124. 

Newton  (Sir  Isaac),  on  space  and 
time,  96  ;  gravitation,  168  ;  in- 
duction, 195. 

Noise  and  music,  30. 

Nominalism,  177-8. 

Noumenon,  74. 

Occam's  razor;  107. 

OdylE,  Reichenbach's,  67. 

Pantheism,  202,  207. 

Percept,  definition  of,  23. 

Perception,  involves  the  whole 
intellect,  13  ;  definitions  of,  22  ; 
different  kinds  of,  23  ;  in  smell, 
27  ;  in  taste,  29  ;  in  hearing,  32; 
in  simple  vision,  37  ;  in  associ- 
ated vision,  39  ;  in  persons  cured 
of  cataract,  41  ;  of  direction,  43  ; 
of  distance,  44 ;  of  solidity,  46  ; 
in  touch,  51  ;  in  muscular  sen- 
sation, 53  ;  of  one's   own  body, 


55  ;  errors  in,  58,  66  ;  in  inverse 
ratio  with  feeling,  62  ;  of  matter, 
73  ;  unconscious,  81  ;  necessary 
elements  of,  84 ;  under  space- 
relations,  87  ;  under  causation, 
98;  under  identity,  113;  doc- 
trine of,  125;  theories  of,  126. 

Philosophy,  defined,  5,  9,  10 ; 
necessity  of,  6 ;  pleasures  of,  7  ; 
departments  of,  10. 

Plato,  sketch  of,  129. 

Porter,  sketch  of,  145  ;  on  per- 
ception in  hearing,  33  ;  localiza- 
tion, 57;  feeling  in  sensation, 
60 ;  attention,  65 ;  substance, 
74 ;  consciousness,  jy,  80,  81, 
83 ;  space,  time,  etc.,  92,  95 ; 
causation,  100 ;  necessary  prin- 
ciples, 121,  124;  sense-percep- 
tion, 127  ;  theory  of  perception, 
146;  on  imagination,  164;  on 
induction,  188. 

Pre-established  harmony,  109, 
133. 

Presentative  power,  defined,  13; 
how  discussed,  15. 

PSKUDOSCOPE,  47. 

Psychology,  defined,  n,  12. 
Qualities  of  matter,  67  ;  quality 

and  substance,  73. 
Realism,  128,  176. 
Reason,  the,  122,  171. 
Reasoning  power,  171. 
Reasoning  proper,  180. 
Recollection,  147. 
Regulative  faculty,  122. 
Reichenbach,  on   hypnotism,  67. 
Reid,    notice  of,    144 ;  use  of  the 

term   perception,    22 ;  on    time, 

96. 
Relativity  of  knowledge,  113. 
Reminiscence,  148. 
Representative  power,  147. 
Reproduction,  147,  156. 
Retentiveness,  147. 
Reverie,  165. 
Ruskin,  on   perception   in  vision, 

47- 
Schelling,  definition   of  philoso- 
phy, 10. 


Index. 


Schoolmen,  the,  130. 
Schopenhauer,  on  space  and  time, 

95- 

Science,  and  metaphysics,  5,  6. 

Scientific  imagination,  167. 

Scientific  induction,  186. 

Self,  79. 

Sensation,  defined,  15,  17;  de- 
scribed, 16;  nature  of,  18;  cul- 
ture  or   loss   of,  19  ;  feeling  in, 

59'  t     1 

Sensational  school,  140. 

Sensations,  classified,  20 ;  cohe- 
rence of,  24;  projection  of,  54; 
rhythm   of,  54  ;  unconscious,  82. 

Sense-perception,  23. 

Sensorium,  defined,  17. 

Shakespeare,  on  memory,  158; 
imagination,  165-6. 

Sidgwick  (Prof.  A.),  on  the  rela- 
tional view  of  propositions,  182. 

Sight,  sense  of,  33. 

Similarity,  112. 

Smell,  sense  of,  25. 

Solidity,  perception  of,  46. 

Somnambulism,  91,  152,  161. 

Space,  84,  90. 

Spencer  (Herbert),  sketch  of,  143; 
on  sensation,  15,  17,  18;  rudi- 
mentary vision,  42  ;  the  sense  of 
touch,  49  ;  feeling  in  sensation, 
64  ;  attention,  66  ;  qualities  of 
matter,  72 ;  consciousness,  77, 
83;  space,  88;  identity,  113; 
similarity,  117  ;  necessary  prin- 
ciples, 119;  the  unknowable, 
144  ;  memory,  158  ;  conception, 
170;  the  concept,  174;  the  syl- 
logism, 182;  his  "law  of  con- 
tradiction," 187;  on  the  intellect 
of  the  lower  animals,  191  ;  com- 


bines  the   associational  psychol- 
ogy with  evolutionism,  199. 
Spinoza,  notice  of,  136. 
Subjective  sensations,  32. 
Substance,  7^. 
Syllogism,   the,    180 ;  definitions 

of,  182. 
Taine   (H.    A.),    on   the  pitch  of 
sounds,    31  ;    persons    cured    of 
cataract,  41  ;  theory  that  percep- 
tion is  hallucination,  57. 
Taste,  sense  of,  27. 
Teleology,  no. 
Teleophobia,  hi. 
Thing-in-itself,  of  Kant,  74. 
Time,  92  ;  time  and  space,  96. 
Touch,  sense  of,  49. 
Tyndall   (John),    on    perception, 

17  ;  on  sound,  31. 
Ueberweg,  on  Herbart,  135;  defi- 
nition of  the  syllogism,  183. 
Unconscious  perception,  81;  cer- 
ebration, 160. 
Understanding,  the,  171. 
Uniformity  of  Nature,  188. 
Universals,  177,  180. 
Ventriloquism,  32. 
Vision,  33 ;  in  the  lower  animals, 
34,    42,   45 ;  minuteness    of,  35  ; 
in  persons  cured  of  cataract,  41  ; 
binocular,    46,    48  ;    importance 
of  in  perception,  127-8. 
Vision  of  all  things  in  God,  135. 
Wallace  (Prof.  Edwin),  on  Aris- 
totle's   doctrine    of    perception, 
130. 
Weber,   on    discriminative  touch, 

5o. 
Whately,  on  the  syllogism,  183  ; 
on  induction,  185. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

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